RHYMES  TO  BE  TRADED  FOR  BREAD 

BEING  NEW  VERSES  BY  NICHOLAS  VACHEL  LINDSAY,  SPRINGFIELD,  ILLINOIS,  JUNE,  1912. 
PRINTED  EXPRESSLY  AS  A  SV  INSTITUTE  FOR  MONEY. 

THIS  BOOK  IS  TO  BE  USED  IN  EXCHANGE  FOR  THE  NECESSITIES  OF  LIFE  ON  A  TRAMP- 
JOURNEY  FROM  THE  AUTHOR'S  HOME  TOWN,  THROUGH  THE  WEST  AND  BACK,  DURING 
WHICH  HE  WILL  OBSERVE  THE  FOLLOWING  RULES:  (1)  KEEP  AWAY  FROM  THE  CITIES. 
(2)  KEEP  AWAY  FROM  THE  RAILROADS.  (3)  HAVE  NOTHING  TO  DO  WITH  MONEY. 
CARRY  NO  BAGGAGE.  (4)  ASK  FOR  DINNER  ABOUT  QUARTER  AFTER  ELEVEN.  (5)  ASK 
FOR  SUPPER,  LODGING  AND  BREAKFAST  ABOUT  QUARTER  OF  FIVE.  (6)  TRAVEL  ALONE. 
(7)  BE  NEAT,  TRUTHFUL,  CIVIL  AND  ON  THE  SQUARE.  (8)  PREACH  THE  GOSPEL  OF  BEAUTY. 

IN  ORDER  TO  CARRY  OUT  THE  LAST  RULE  THERE  WILL  BE  THREE  EXCEPTIONS  TO  THE 
RULE  AGAINST  BAGGAGE.  (1)  THE  AUTHOR  WILL  CARRY  A  BRIEF  PRINTED  STATEMENT, 
CALLED  "THE  GOSPEL  OF  BEAUTY."  (2)  HE  WILL  CARRY  THIS  BOOK  OF  RHYMES  FOR 
DISTRIBUTION.  (3)  ALSO  HE  WILL  CARRY  A  SMALL  PORTFOLIO  WITH  PICTURES,  ETC., 
CHOSEN  TO  GIVE  AN  OUTLINE  OF  HIS  VIEW  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF  ART,  ESPECIALLY  AS  IT 
APPLIES  TO  AMERICA. 


INTRODUCTION 

UPON    RETURNING  TO   THE   COUNTRY 

ROAD. 

EVEN    THE   SHREWD    AND   BITTER, 
GNARLED    BY    THE    OLD    WORLD'S    GREED, 
CHERISHED    THE    STRANGER    SOFTLY 
SEEING    HIS    UTTER    NEED. 
SHELTER    AND    PATIENT    HEARING, 
THESE   WERE   THEIR   GIFTS    TO  HIM, 
TO    THE    MINSTREL    GRIMLY    BEGGING 
AS    THE    SUNSET-FIRE    GREW    DIM. 
THE    RICH    SAID    "YOU    ARE   WELCOME." 
YEA,    EVEN    THE    RICH    WERE    GOOD. 
HOW    STRANGE    THAT    IN    THEIR    FEASTING 
HIS    SONGS    WTERE    UNDERSTOOD.' 
THE  DOORS  OF  THE  POOR  WERE  OPEN, 
THE    POOR    WHO    HAD    WANDERED    TOO, 
WHO  HAD   SLEPT   WITH   NE'ER  A  ROOF-TREE 
UNDER   THE    WIND    AND   DEW. 
THE    MINDS    OF    THE   POOR    WERE   OPEN, 
THERE    DARK    MISTRUST    WAS    DEAD. 
THEY    LOVED    HIS    \VIZARD    STORIES, 
THEY    BOUGHT   HIS    RHYMES    WITH    BREAD. 
THOSE  WERE  HIS  DAYS  OF  GLORY, 
OF    FAITH    IN    HIS    FELLOW-MEN. 
THEREFORE,    TODAY    THE    SINGER  .  . 

TURNS    BEGGAR    ONCE    AGAIN. 


HE  BLEW  ME  TO  A  WINDLAND  BUSHJ 
WITH  SPEED  AND  JOY  WE  FLEW. 

THE  GREAT  BUSH  BLOOMED  WITH  PARCH 
MENTS  FINE,  OF  SONGS  THAT  FEED 
THE  SOUL, 

ALL  NEW,  THAT  OUR  DEAR  EARTH  SHALL 
HEAR,  WHEN  POETS  REACH  THEIB 
GOAL. 

WHEN  OUR  GROWN  CHILDREN,  BREATHING 

FIRE,  SHALL  JUSTIFY  ALL  TIME, 
BY    HYMNS    OF    LIVING    SILVER,     SONGS 

WITH  SUNRISE  IN  THE  RHYME. 
I  WISH  THAT  I  HAD  LEARNED  BY  HEART 

SOME  LYRICS  READ  THAT  DAY, 
I  KNEW  NOT  'TWAS  A  GIANT  HOUR.  AND 

SPENT  IT  ALL  IN  PLAY. 
WINDLAND    GLEAMS  SO  DEWY-WHITE,    SO 

FULL  OF  CRYSTAL  PEACE, 
AND  EVERY  LEAF  A  SILKEN  HARP,  WHOSE 

MURMURS  WILL  NOT  CEASE. 
I  GORGED  THE  HONEY  FROM  THE  CUPS  OF 

WILD-FLOWERS  ALL  ABOUT, 
LAUGHING  WHEN  THE  WIZARD  LAUGHED, 

AND  PUT  THE  GNATS  TO  ROUT. 
I  READ  ONCE  MORE,  THEN  SLEPT  AWHILE, 

THEN  WOKE  ON  EARTH  AGAIN, 
I  WISH  THOSE  SCROLLS  WERE  MINE  THAT 

I  MIGHT  BRING  THEM  UNTO  MEN! 


VERSES    OF   FANTASY 
AND  DESIRE 

THE   WIZARD    WIND. 
THE  WIZARD  WIND'S  A   FRIEND  OF   MINE, 

MOST     INTIMATE,     IN     TRUTH, 
HE    WHISTLES     SORROW     HALF    AWAY,    HE 

GIVES    ME    GOLDEN    YOUTH. 
AND     FREE     AS     THAT     SMALL     BIRD     THAT 

EATS   THE   WHEAT-EAR   IN    THE    SHEAF 
I     AM     NO     LONGER     MAN,     BUT     CLOUD,     OR 

TUMBLED     MAPLE-LEAF. 
ONCE     HE     TRANSFOKMED     ME     TO     A     BEE, 

HUNGRY     FOR     HONEY-DEW, 


THE      KING      OF      YELLOW      BUTTER 
FLIES. 

(EARLY  SPRING.) 
THE  KING  OF  YELLOW  BUTTERFLIES  NOW 

ORDERS  FORTH  HIS  MEN, 
ME   SAYS,    "THE  TIME   is    ALMOST   HERE 

WHEN    TIOJLETS    BLOOM    AGAIN." 
ADOWN    THE  ROAD   THE   FICKLE   ROUT  GOES 

FLASHING   PROUD   AND   BOLD, 
THEY     SHIVER     BY     THE     SHALLOW     POOLS 

AND  WHIMPER   OF  THE   COLD. 
THEY     DRINK     AND     DRINK.          'TIS     A     PRE 
TENCE.       THEY      LOVE     TO     POSE     AND 
PREEN, 


EACH      POOL      IS      BUT      A      LOOKING-GLASS 
WHERE      THEIB      SWEET      WINGS      ABE 

SEEN. 

THEY'RE       GENTLEMEN  —  ADVENTURERS, 

THEY'RE  GIPSIES  EVERY  WHIT, 
THEY  LIVE  ON  WHAT  THEY  STEAL.   THEIR 

WINGS  BY  BRLABS  ARE  FRAYED  A  BIT. 
THEIR  LOVES  ARE  LIGHT.    THEY  HAVE  NO 

HOUSE.    AND  IF  IT  RAINS  TODAY 
THEY'LL  CLIMB  INTO  YOUR  CATTLE-SHED, 

AND  HIDE  THEM  IN  THE  HAY. 

THE      GRAVE      OF      THE      RIGHTEOUS 

KITTEN. 
HEBE   LIES   A  KITTEN  GOOD,   WHO  KEPT 

A  KITTEN'S  PROPER  PLACE. 

HE  STOLE  NO  PANTRY  EATABLES, 

NOR  SCRATCHED  THE  BABY'S  FACE. 

HE  LET  THE  ALLEY-CATS  ALONE, 

HE  HAD  NO  YOWLING  VICE. 

HIS  SHIRT  WAS  ALWAYS  LAUNDRIED  WELL, 

HE  FREED  THE  HOUSE  OF  MICE. 

UNTIL  HIS  DEATH  HE  HAD  NOT  CAUSED 

HIS  LITTLE  MISTRESS  TEARS, 

HE  WORE  HIS  RIBBON  PRETTILY, 

HE  WASHED  BEHIND  HIS  EARS. 

AN     INDIAN     SUMMER    DAY     ON     THE 

PRAIRIE. 

(IN    THE  BEGINNING.) 
THE  SUN   IS   A   HUNTRESS   YOUNG, 
THE    SUN     IS    A    RED,    RED    JOY, 
THE   SUN    IS   AN    INDIAN   GIRL, 

OF  THE  TRIBE  OF  THE  ILLINOIS. 

(MID-MORNING.) 

THE  SUN  IS  A  SMOULDERING  FIRE, 
THAT  CREEPS  THROUGH  THE  HIGH  GREY 

PLAIN 

AND  LEAVES  NOT  A  BUSH  OF  CLOUD 
TO  BLOSSOM  WITH  FLOWERS  OF  RAIN. 

(NOON.) 

THE  SUN  IS  A  WOUNDED  DEER, 
THAT  TREADS  PALE  GRASS  IX  THE  SKIES. 
SHAKING  HIS  GOLDEN  HORNS, 
FLASHING  HIS  BALEFUL  EYES. 

(SUNSET.) 

THE  Sl'X  IS  AN   EAGLE  OLD, 
THERE  IN  "THE  WINDLESS  WEST 
ATOP   OF   THE   SPIRIT-CLIFFS 
HE  BUILDS  HIM  A  CRIMSON  NEST. 

WHY    I    FLED    FROM    DUTY. 
I    HAVE   LOST   YOU,    LITTLE    MISS    DUTY. 
I    TOI.D    YOU    MY    I.CST   AND   LOVE, 

LUST  LIKE  THE   PULSE   OF  THE  TIGER 

THE    HUNGER    OF    HAWK    FOR    DOVE. 

I   HAVE   LOST   YOU,    LITTLE    MISS    DUTY, 

THOUMI     I     HROn.HT     YOU     MYSELF    QUITE 

WHOLE, 

WHITE    BODY    AND    BLACK    DESIRE 

CONSCIENCE,     AND     BREATH,     AND     SOUL. 
"YOU      ARE      NAKED,"      SAID      LITTLE      MISS 

DUTY, 

"<,o     HIDE    IN     Till-.    (  AVES    AND    HILLS, 
FOR    I    MUST    BE    GILDING    COBWEBS, 
I   AM    CHAINED  IN   THE   COBWEB   MILLS. 


MY    SILK    BUYS    BREAD    AND    BUTTER 
AND  PAYS  MY  DEBT  ON  THE  FARM." 
SO  I   STOLE  HER  SHOE  FOR  REMEMBERANCE 
:AND  FLED  LEST  I  DO  HER  HARM. 

MACHINERY. 

OH,    EGYPT QUEEN    OF    EGYPT 

WHEN    I   WAS    KING    OF    BIRDS 

YOU    CALLED    ME    FROM    THE    TREETOPS 

WITH     MYSTIC    COPTIC    WORDS. 

YOU    WHISTLED    AND    YOU    WHISPERED, 

THEN    MOCKED   ME,   FICKLE   QUEEN. 

YOU   SAID   TO  AI«L   MY    SOUL  TALK.1 

"A   BIRD   IS   A   MACHINE." 

YOUR    TRIBE   WAS    OLD    IN    SCIENCE-, 

YOU  SAID  TO  ME — "YOUR  WINGS 

ABE    RODS    AND    STRINGS    AND    HINGES ; 

THE  PLACE  IN   YOU   THAT   SINGS. 

"IS    A    TINY    WILLOW    WHISTLE, 

QUITE  WELL  DEVISED,  BUT  STILL 

A  SISTRUM  MAKES  MORE  MUSIC: 
A  FEATHER'S  BUT  A  QUILL; 

"A   CLAW    IS    BUT   A    NEEDLE: 

A    CRAW,    A    MILL   FOB    CORN; 

YOUR    HEART    IS    BUT    A    LITTLE    PUMP, 

YOUR    SOUL   WAS    NEVER   BORN." 

BUT   THEN,   I   SANG   SO   DESPERATELY    .... 
I    MADE   FAIR  EGYPT    SIGH:  — 
"OH    DOWNY    SOUL    IMMORTAL! 
OH    BIRD   THAT   CANNOT   DIE!" 

LOVE  AND    LAW. 

TRUE  LOVE  IS  FOUNDED  IN  ROCKS  OF  RE 
MEMBER  ANCE, 

IN  STONES  OF  FORBEARANCE  AND  MORTAR 
OF  PAIN. 

THE  WORKMAN  LAYS  WEARILY  GRANITE 
ON  GRANITE, 

AND  BLEEDS  FOR  HIS  CASTLE  'MID  SUN 
SHINE  AND  RAIN. 

LOVE  IS  NOT  VELVET,  NOT  ALL  OF  IT  VEL 
VET, 

NOT  ALL  OF  IT  BANNERS,  NOT  GOLD-LEAF 
ALONE. 

'TIS  STERN  AS  THE  AGES,  AND  OLD  AS 
RELIGION, 

WITH  PATTEN  <-E  ITS  WATCHWORD  AND 
I  AW  FOR  ITS  THRONE. 

THE   FLIGHT   OF   MONA   LISA. 
UEIXG       THE       SECRET      HISTORY       OF      THE 
STEALING    OF    LEONARDO    DA    VINCl'S    MAS- 
il.lMMElj:      FKO.M       THE      GALLERY      OF     THE 
LOUVRE. 
ALWAYS    KNTTIKONKD,    AND   EVER   WISE   AND 

STILL       *       *       * 
KIVERS      OF      STARING.       STRENUOUS      FOLK 

\VE.\T    I IV. 
ONLY        I  IIK       WISE       AND       RIPE      OF      SOUL 

WOULD    PAUSE, 
MARKING    THE    SHADOWED    MAGIC   OF    YOUR 

EVE       *       *       * 
NOW        MOIJS       UNDO       VOUK        NAME       WITH 

CLACKING    TONGUE. 
TOO    DULL    TO    KNOW    THE    LADY    THAT    YOU 

ARE, 


IGNORANT  OF  THE  RENAISSANCE  SO  SWEET 
OF    WHICH    YOU    WERE    THE    CULMINATING 

STAR — 
CROWDS,    TO    WHOM    BEAUTY    IS    A    HIDDEN 

BOOK — 

THOUGH    THEY  GO  SEEK  IT  TILL    THEIR 

EYES  ARE  RED; 
MEX  TO  WHOM  LEONARDO  IS  UNKNOWN 

OR     BUT     A     DUSTY     FAME,     A     LONG     TIME 

DEAD: 

THESE    SAY    THAT   YOU    WERE   COURTED    BY 

A    THIEF, 
NAY,    RATHER,.   AFTER    HALF    A    THOUSAND 

YEARS, 
YOUR     SMILE     TOOK     ON     AN     UNEXPECTED 

BLOOM, 
DESIRE   AROSE   THAT    MOVED    YOU    NIGH    TO 

TEARS. 
YOU       FLASHED       THAT      PRINCESS-GLANCE 

THAT  WAS    COMMAND— 

"CARRY  ME  WITH  YOU  YOUTH,     i  LEAVE 

THIS  PLACE. 

I  GROW  LOVE-HUNGRY  'MID  THE  CEN 
TURIES, 

YOURS  IS  THE  DESTINED,  FLUSHED  ADOR 
ING  FACE!" 

AH,    WHAT   A    BEAUTEOUS,    WICKED    THING 

IT    WAS, 
THIS     RECKLESS     HOPE     OF     YOURS     THAT 

STUNG    HIM    SO 

TILL,    SCORNING    YOUR    FAIR    PALACE    AND 

YOUR    GUARD, 
HE    HALED    YOU    TO    SOME    LONELY    PLACE 

AGLOW. 
WHY   DID   THIS    SUDDEN   THIRST  OF   YOURS 

AWAKE? 

CAN  FEVER    MUTINY  IN   VEINS   SO   OLD? 
WHAT,      IN     HIS      GESTURE     TAMED      YOUR 

SPIRIT    HIGH? 
WHAT,       IN       HIS       FIGURE       MADE       YOUR 

GLANCES    BOLD? 
TILL,     DAY      BY      DAY      YOUR      LONG     LOOK 

WITCHING    HIM, 
HIS  FLAGGING  PULSES   KINDLED  TO  SPICED 

FIRE, 
AND  REACHED   AT   LAST   THE  RENAISSANCE 

SUPREME 
ATTAINED      THE    HEIGHT    OF      FLORENTINE 

DESIRE? 

i  KNOW  'TWAS  LEONARDO  COME  TO  EARTH 

IN  MASQUERADING  FANCY  DRESSED  SO 
GAY. 

TRANSFORMED  INTO  A  CARELESS  ARTIST- 
BOY, 

A  LOAFING  STUDENT  WASTING  OUT  THE 
DAY. 

AH,  GROWN  SO  WEARY  OF  HIGH  HEAVEN'S 
STREETS ! 

AND  OF  THE  GLITTERING  SAINTS  TOO- 
RIGHTEOUS  GRACE! 

WEARY  OF  GODLY  SUNSHINE  WITHOUT 
END! 

SEEKING  AGAIN  THE  SHADOWS  OF  YOUR 
FACE! 

YOU  DID   NOT  KNOW  HIM  FOR  HIMSELF 

UNTIL 

YOU  FLED,  WITHIN  HIS  ARMS.  ADOWN 
THE  STAIR, 


THEN,    (AND    YOU    SAW    THE   GLEAMING 

PAUIS    STREKT), 

HE  STOOD  A  GREY  WISE  MAN  BESIDE  YOU 
THERE. 

A  WANDERING  JEW,  TO  YOU  HIS  HEART'S 
OLD  HOME, 

HE  CAME,  AND  GAVE  YOUR  SOUL  AT  LAST 
SURPRISE, 

HE  STRANGELY  BROUGHT  A  CHILD-ASTON 
ISHMENT, 

A    NOBLE    MAIDEN-WONDER    TO    YOUR   EYES. 

HE  RAVISHED  YOU  AWAY  TO  HEAVEN 
WITH  HIM, 

STILL  YEARNING  FOR  YOUR  BITTER  KISS 
AGAIN 

YOUR  BITTER,  GENTLE,  DOVE-LIKE  WEARI 
NESS, 

AND  FOLLIES  GARNERED  'MID  THE  SONS 
OF  MEN. 


AN   APOLOGY   FOR   THE   BOTTLE 
VOLCANIC. 

SOMETIMES  I  DIP  MY  PEN  AND  FIND  THE 
BOTTLE  FULL  OF  FIRE, 

THE  SALAMANDERS  FLYING  FORTH  I  CAN 
NOT  BUT  ADMIRE. 

ITS  ETNA,  OR  VESUVIUS,  IF  THOSE  BIG 
THINGS  WERE  SMALL, 

AND  THEN  'TIS  BUT  ITSELF  AGAIN,  AND 
DOES  NOT  SMOKE  AT  ALL. 

AND    SO    MY    BLOOD    GROWS    COLD.       I    SAY, 

"THE  BOTTLE  HELD  BUT  INK, 
AND,    IF   YOU   THOUGHT    IT    OTHERWISE, 

THE    WORSER    FOR    YOUR    THINK.." 
AND   THEN,    JUST    AS    I    THROW    MY    SCRIB 
BLED    PAPER    ON    THE    FLOOR 
THE  BOTTLE   SAYS   "FE,   FI,   FO,  FUM,"  AND 

STEAMS   AND   SHOUTS    SOME   MORE. 
OH,  SAD  DECEIVING  INK,  AS  BAD  AS  LIQUOR 
IN    ITS    WAY 

ALL     DEMONS     OF     A     BOTTLE     SIZE     HAVE 

PRANCED    FROM     YOU    TODAY, 
AND     SEIZED     MY     PEN     FOR     HOBBY-HORSE 

AS  WITCHES  RIDE  A  BROOM, 
AND    LEFT    A    TRAIL    OF    BRIMSTONE    WORDS 

AND    BLOTS    AND    GOBS    OF    GLOOM. 
AND    YET    WHEN    I    AM    EXTRA    GOOD    AND 

SAY    MY   PRAYERS   AT   NIGHT, 
AND    MIND    MY    MA,    AND    DO    THE    CHORES, 

AND   SPEAK   TO   FOLKS   POLITE, 
MY  BOTTLE  SPREADS  A  RAINBOW-MIST,  AND 

FROM    THE    VAPOR    FINE 
TEX    THOUSAND    TROOPS    FROM    FAIRYLAND 

COME   RIDING   IN    A   LINE. 
I'VE     SEEN      THEM     ON      THEIR     CHARGERS 

RACE   AROUND  MY   STUDY   CHAIR, 
THEY     OPENED     WIDE     THE     WINDOW     AND 

RODE   FORTH   UPON    THE   AIR. 
THE     ARMY     WIDENED     AS     IT    WENT,     AND 

INTO    MYRIADS    GREW, 
OH,    HOW    THE    LANCES    SHIMMERED,    HOW 

THE   SILVERY   TRUMPETS   BLEW! 


THE  MAGICAL  VILLAGE 

THE    PATIENT    WITCH. 
A    LADY    CALLED    THE    PATIENT   WITCH, 
LIVED    NEAR    US    LONG    AGO. 
»l  K    SERVANTS   GAVE   HEB   OFF   AND   ON 
A    BIT    OF    COIN    OR    SO, 
TO     TELL     THEM      WHAT     THEIR      DREAMS 

COULD    MEAN, 

AND  IF  THEIR  LOVES  WERE  TRUEj 
TO    STUDY    OUT   THEIR   PALMS   AND    SAY — 
"A    PALACE    WAITS    FOR    YOU/' 
AND    THEN    SHE   ALWAYS    WAS    POLITE, 
AND    SAID,    "HOW    DO    YOU    FARE? 
I    HOPE    YOUR    LITTLE    GIRL    IS    WELL," 
WITH    A    MOST    PLEASANT    AIR. 
SHE     MUMBLED     MUCH,     WE     KNEW      NOT 

WHAT — 

EACH   AFTERNOON    WOULD    WAIT 
BESIDE   THE   GUIDE-POST   TO   THE   WEST 
FOR    SOME   EXALTED    FATE. 
SHE      LOOKED      DOWN      EVERY      ROAD      AS 

THOUGH 

A    STATELY    COACH    WAS    DUE, 
TO      BEAR      HER     HOME      TO      SOMEWHERE 

ELSE, 

TO  FOLKS  SHE  REALLY  KNEW. 
"ONE    EVENING,"    SAID    A    LITTLE    BOY, 
THE    ONLY    ONE    A  NIGH, 
"SHE  TOLD  ME  PRETTY  STORIES,   AND 
SHE   KISSED    MY   CURLS    GOODBY, 
AND    TURNED    INTO    A    SWAN    AND    SPREAD 
HER    WHITE   WINGS    BIG    AND   WIDE. 
AND   FLEW   AND   FLEW   INTO   THE    SKY! 
AND   I   CAME   HOME   AND   CRIED." 

EDEN    IN    WINTER. 

SUPPOSED   TO   BE   CHANTED    TO   SOME   RUDE 
INSTRUMENT    AT    A    MODERN    FIRE 
PLACE. 

CHANT  WE  THE   STORY   NOW 
THOUGH  IN  A  HOUSE  WE  SLEEP. 
THOUGH    BY    A    HEARTH    OF    COALS 
VIGIL   TONIGHT   WE  KEEP. 
CHANT  WE  THE   STORY   NOW, 
OF   THE   VAGUE   LOVE   WE    KNEW 
WHEN    I   FROM   OUT   THE   SEA 
ROSE    TO    THE    FEET    OF    YOU. 
BIRD   FROM    THE   CLIFFS    YOU    CA1MK 
FLEW   THROUGH    THE    SNOW    TO    M  K. 
FACING    THE    ICY    BLAST 
THERE   BY   THE  ICY   SEA. 
HOW    DID    I    REACH    YOUR    FEET? 

WHY   SHOULD  I AT   THE  END 

HOLD   OUT   HALF   FROZEN    HANDS 
DUMBLY   TO   YOU   MY   FRIEND? 

NE'ER  HAD  i  WOMAN  SEEN, 
NE'ER  HAD  i  SEEN   A  FLAME. 

THERE    YOU   PILED    FAGOTS    ON 

HEAT    ROSE THE    BLAST    TO    TAME. 

THERE   BY   THE   CAVE-DOOR  DARK 
COMFORTING    ME    YOU    CRIED— 
WAILED  O'ER  MY  WOUNDED  KNEE 
WEPT    FOR    MY    ROCK-TORN    SIDK. 
UP    FROM    THE    SOUTH    I    TRAILED— 
LEFT  REGIONS  FIERCE  AND  FAIR! 
LEFT     ALL     THE     JUNGLE-TREES 
F.KIT    THE    RED    TIGER'S    LAIR. 


HREAM    LEI),    1    SCARCE    KNEW    WHY, 
INTO   YOUR    NORTH    I    TROD— 
NE'ER    HAD    1    KNOWN    THE    SNOW. 
OR    THE    FROST-BLASTED    SOD. 
OH    HOW    THE   FLAKES    CAME    DOWN! 
OH    HOW    THE    FIRE    BURNED    HIGH! 
.STRANGE  THING  TO  SEE  HE  WAS 
THROUGH   HIS    DRY   TWIGS   WOULD   FLY. 

CREEP     THERE     AWHILE    AND     SLEEP 

THEN    WAKE   AND    BARK    FOR    FIGHT — 
BITING    IF    I    TOO    NEAR, 
CAME    TO    HIS    EYE    SO    BRIGHT. 
THEN    WITH    A    WILL    YOU    FED 
WOOD    TO    HIS    HUNGRY    TONGUE. 

THEN    HE   DID   LEAP   AND    SING 

DANCING    THE    CLOUDS    AMONG. 
TURNING    THE    NIGHT    TO    NOON, 
STINGING    MY    EYES    WITH    LIGHT, 
MAKING    THE    SNOW    RETREAT, 
MAKING    THE    CAVE-HOUSE    BRIGHT. 
THERE   WERE   DRY   FAGOTS   PILED, 
NUTS   AND    DRY   LEAVES    AND   ROOTS. 
STORES   THERE  OF  FURS   AND   HIDES. 
SWEET-BARKS    AND   GRAINS    AND   FRUITS. 
THERE  WRAPPED  IN  FUR  WE  LAY' 

HALF-BURNED,    HALF-FROZEN    STILL — 
NE'ER  WILL  MY   SOUL  FORGET 
ALL  THE   NIGHT'S   BITTER   CHILL. 
WE  HAD  NOT  LEARNED  TO  SPEAK 
I  WAS  TO  YOU  A  STRANGE 
WOLFLING  OR  WOUNDED  FAWN 
LOST  FROM  HIS  FOREST-RANGE. 

THIRSTING    FOR    BLOODY     MEAT 
OUT    AT    THE    DAWN    WE    WENT, 
WEIGHED    WITH    OUR   PREY    AT    EVE. 
HOME-CAME  WE  ALL  FORESPENT. 
COMRADES    AND    HUNTERS    TRIED 

ERE    WE    WERE    MAID    AND    MAN 

NOT    TILL    THE    SPRING    AWOKE 
LAUGHTER     AND     SPEECH     BEGAN. 
WHINING     LIKE    FOREST     DOGS, 
RUSTLING    LIKE   BUDDING   TREES, 
BUBBLING   LIKE   THAWING    SPRINGS. 
HUMMING    LIKE    LITTLE    BEES, 
CROONING  LIKE  MAYTIME  TIDES, 
CHATTERING   PARROT   WORDS, 
CRYING    THE    PANTHER'S     CRY, 
CHIRPING    LIKE    MATING    BIRDS — 
THUS,  THUS,  WE  LEARNED  TO  SPEAK, 
WHO,    'MID    THE    SNOWS    WERE    DUMB, 
NOR    DID    WE    LEARN    TO    KISS 
UNTIL    THE    SPRIN(i     HAD    COME. 


THE   TOWER    BUILDER. 
IN    AN    IMPERIAL    HOUR 
WITH     COUNTENANCE     BENK;N. 
VENUS    THE   HOLY    CAME 
AND    LAID    KIND    HANDS     IN     MINE. 
HANDS    I    CANNOT    FORGET. 
NEVER    A    WORD    SHE    SPOKE, 
SHE    GAVE    HER    FINGER-TIPS 
AND     MY     DEAD    SOUL     AWOKE. 
I  LEARNED   WHY   STRO.Nd    \1K.N    TOIL. 
AND   WHY    BRIGHT    CITIES    RISE. 
I    HARDLY    TOUCHED    HER    HAIR, 
AND    SCARCELY    SAW    HER    EYES. 


THOUGH   SHE   IS   GONE   I    BUILD 

BY    HER    STRONG    HANDS    ALL    DAY. 

I    HAVE    THE    KEY    TO    LIFE 

A    POWER    WORDS    CANNOT    SAY. 

QUEEN    MAB    IN    THE    VILLAGE. 
OH,  ONCE  I  LOVED  A  FAIRY, 
QUEEN  MAB  IT  WAS.    HER  VOICE 
WAS  LIKE  A  LITTLE  FOUNTAIN 
THAT  BIDS  THE  BIRDS  REJOICE. 
HER  FACE  WAS  WISE  AND  SOLEMN, 
HER  HAIR  WAS  BROWN  AND  FINE. 
HER  DRESS  WAS  PANSY  VELVET, 
A  BUTTERFLY  DESIGN. 
TO  SEE  HER  HOVER  ROUND  ME 
OR  WALK  THE  HILLS  OF  AIR, 
AWAKENED  LOVE'S  DEEP  PULSES 
AND  BOYHOOD'S  FIRST  DESPAIR; 
A  PASSION  LIKE  A  SWORD-BLADE 
THAT     PIERCED     ME     THROUGH     AND 

THROUGH, 

HER    FINGERS    HEALED    THE    SORROW 
HER    WHISPER    WOULD    RENEW. 
WE    SIGHED    AND   REIGNED    AND    FEASTED 
WITHIN    A    HOLLOW    TREE, 
WE    VOWED    OUR    LOVE    WAS    BOUNDLESS 
ETERNAL   AS    THE    SEA. 
SHE   BANISHED  FROM   HER   KINGDOM 
THE    MORTAL   BOY    I    GREW — 
SO  TALL  AND  CRUDE  AND   NOISY, 
I   KILLED  GRASSHOPPERS  TOO. 
I  THREW  BIG  ROCKS  AT  PIGEONS, 
I   PLUCKED   AND    TORE    APART 
THE     WEEPING,     WAILING     DAISIES, 
AND    BROKE    MY    LADY'S    HEART. 
AT  LENGTH   I   GREW  TO   MANHOOD, 
I    SCARCELY    COULD    BELIEVE, 
I     EVER    LOVED     THE    LADY, 
OB    CAUSED    HER    COURT    TO    GRIEVE, 
UNTIL    A    DREAM    CAME    TO    ME 

ONE  BLEAK  FIRST  NIGHT  OF  SPRING 

'ERE  TIDES  OF  APPLE  BLOSSOMS 

ROLLED  IN  O'ER  EVERYTHING, 

WHILE  RAIN  AND  SLEET  AND  SN'OWBANKS 

WERE  STILL  A  VEXING  MEN, 

'ERE  ROBIN  AND  HIS  COMRADES 

WERE  NESTING  ONCE  AGAIN. 

i  SAW  MAB'S  BOOK  OF  JUDGMENT — 

ITS  CLASPS   WERE  IRON   AND   STONE, 
ITS     LEAVES     WERE     MAMMOTH     IVORY, 

ITS    BOARDS    WERE    MAMMOTH    BONE, 

HID    IN    HER    SEASIDE    MOUNTAINS, 

FORGOTTEN    OR    UNKEPT, 

BENEATH    ITS    MIGHTY    COVERS 

HER    WRATH    AGAINST    ME    SLEPT. 

AND    DEEPLY    I    REPENTED 

OF    BRASH    AND    BOYISH    CRIME, 

OF    MURDER    OF    THINGS    LOVELY 

NOW    AND    IN    OLDEN    TIME. 

I    CURSED    MY    VAIN    AMBITION, 

MY    WOULD-BE    WORLDLY    DAYS, 

AND    CRAVED    THE    PATHS    OF    WONDER, 

OF   DEWY   DAWNS    AND   FAYS. 

I   CRIED,   "OUR   LOVE   WAS   BOUNDLESS 

ETERNAL    AS    THE     SEA, 

OH,     QUEEN,    REVERSE    THE    SENTENCE, 

COME    BACK    AND    MASTER    ME!" 

THE    ROOK    WAS    BY    THE    CLIFF-SIDE 


UPON   ITS   EDGE   UPRIGHT. 

I    LAID    ME    BY    IT    SOFTLY, 

AND    WEPT    THROUGHOUT    THE    NIGHT. 

AND  THERE   AT   DAWN   I   SAW   IT, 

NO     BOOK     NOW     BUT     A    DOOR, 

UPON    ITS    PANELS    WRITTEN 

"JUDGMENT  is  NO  MORE." 

THE  BOLT  FLEW  BACK   WITH   THUNDER, 

I    SAW    WITHIN    THAT   PLACE 

A    MERMAID    WRAPPED    IN    SEAWEED 

WITH    MAB'S    IMMORTAL    FACE. 

YET   GROWN    NOW  TO   A   WOMAN, 

A   WOMAN   TO   THE   KNEE. 

SHE    CRIED,    SHE    CLASPED    ME    FONDLY, 

WE   SOON    WERE   IN   THE   SEA. 

AH,   SHE  WAS  WISE  AND  SUBTF.I  . 

AND    GAY    AND    STRONG    AND    SLKKK. 

WE   CHAINED   THE   WICKED    SWORD-FISH, 

WE   PLAYED   AT   HIDE    AND    SEEK. 

WE  FLOATED  ON   THE  WATER, 

WE    HEARD    THE    DAWN-WIND    SING. 

I    MADE    FROM    OCEAN-WONDERS 

HER    BRIDAL    WREATH     AND    RING. 

ALL     MORTAL     GIRLS     WERE     SHADOWS, 

ALL  EARTH-LIFE   BUT   A   MIST, 

WHEN    DEEP    BENEATH    THE    MAELSTROM, 

THE  MERMAID'S  HEART  i  KISSED. 

I    WOKE    BESIDE    THE    CHURCH-DOOR 

OF    OUR    SMALL    INLAND    TOWN, 

BOWING    TO    A    MAIDEN 

IN    A    PANSY-VELVET    GOWN, 

WHO    HAD    NOT    HEARD    OF    FAIRIES, 

YET    SEEMED   OF   LOVE   TO   DREAM. 

WE     PLANNED     AN     EARTHLY     COTTAGE 

BESIDE  AN  EARTHLY   STREAM. 

OUR    WEDDING    LONG    IS    OVER, 

WITH    TOIL    THE    YEARS    FILL     UP, 

YET     IN     THE     EVENING     SILENCE, 

WE    DRINK    A    DEEP-SEA    CUP. 

NOTHING    THE   FAY    REMEMBERS, 

YET    WHEN    SHE    TURNS    TO    ME, 

WE     MEET     BENEATH     THE     WHIRLPOOL, 

WE    SWIM    THE    GOLDEN    SEA. 

THE    MASTER    OF    THE    DANCE. 
A    MASTER    DEEP-EYED 
ERE    HIS    MANHOOD    WAS    RIPE, 
HE    SANG    LIKE    A    THRUSH, 
HE    COULD    PLAY    ANY    PIPE. 
SO    DULL    IN    THE     SCHOOL 
THAT    HE    SCARCELY    COULD    SPELL, 
HE   READ   BUT    A    BIT, 
AND   HE   FIGURED   NOT   WELL. 
A    BARE-FOOTED    FOOL, 
SHOD    ONLY    WITH    GRACEJ 
LONG    HAIR    STREAMING    DOWN 
ROUND    A    WIND-HARDENED    FACE; 
HE    SMILED  LIKE   A    GIRL, 
OR    LIKE    CLEAR    WINTER    SKIES, 
A    VIRGINAL    LIGHT 
MAKING    STARS    OF    HIS    EYES. 
IN     SWIFTNESS    AND    POISE, 
A    PROUD    CHILD    OF    THE    DEER, 
A    WHITE    FAWN    HE    WAS. 
YET    A    FAWN     WITHOUT    FEAR. 
NO    YOUTH   THOUGHT   HIM    VAIN, 
OR    MADE    MOCK    OF    HIS    HAIR, 
OR    LAUGHED    WHEN    HIS    WAYS 


WERE     MOST     CURIOUSLY     FAIR. 

A     MASTIFF    AT     FIGHT 

HE    COULD    STRIKE    TO    THE    EARTH 

THE    ENVIOUS    ONE 

WHO    WOULD    CHALLENGE    HIS    WORTH. 

HOWEVER    WE    BOWED 

TO    THE    SCHOOLMASTER    MILD, 

OUR    SPIRITS    WENT    OUT 

TO    THE    FAWN-FOOTED    CHILD. 

HIS    BECKONING    LED 

OUR   TROOP  INTO   THE  BRUSH. 

WE    FOUND    NOTHING    THERE 

BUT    A    WIND    AND    A    HUSH. 

HE    SAT    BY    A    STONE 

AND    HE    LOOKED    ON    THE    GROUND, 

AS  JF   IN    THE    WEEDS 

THERE   WAS    SOMETHING    PROFOUND. 

HIS   PIPE    SEEMED   TO   NEIGH, 

THEN    TO    BLEAT   LIKE    A    SHEEP, 

THEN    SOUND   LIKE    A   STREAM 

OR    A    WATERFALL    DEEP. 

IT    WHISPERED    STRANGE    TALES, 

HUMAN    WORDS    IT    SPOKE    NOT. 

TOLD   FAIR   THINGS    TO    COME, 

AND    OUR    MARVELOUS    LOT 

IF    NOW    WITH.    FAWN-STEPS 

UNSHOD    WE    ADVANCED 

TO    THE    MIDST    OF    THE    GROVE 

AND    IN    REVERENCE   DANCED. 

WE   OBEYED    AS    HE  PIPED 

SOFT    GRASS    TO    YOUNG    FEET, 

WAS    A    MEDICINE    MIGHTY, 

A    REMEDY    MEET. 

OUR   THIN   BLOOD   AWOKE, 

IT  GREW  DIZZY  AND   WILD, 

THOUGH    SCARCELY    A    WORD 

MOVED    THE    LIPS    OF    A    CHILD. 

OUB  DANCE   GAVE   ALLEGIANCE, 

IT    SET    US     APART, 

WE    TRIPPED    A    STRANGE    MEASURE, 

UPLIFTED    OF    HEART. 


II 


WE   THOUGHT    TO   BE   PROUD 

OF   OUR   FAWN    EVERYWHERE. 

WE  COULD   HARDLY   SEE  HOW 

SIMPLE    BOOKS    WERE    A    CARE. 

NO    RULE    OF    THE    SCHOOL 

THIS    STRANGE    STUDENT    COULD    TAME. 

HE  WAS  BANISHED  ONE   DAY, 

WHILE  WE  QUIVERED  WITH   SHAME. 

HE   PIPED   BACK   OUR   LOVE 

ON     A     MOON-SILVERED     NIGHT, 

ENTICED    US    ONCE    MORE 

TO    THE    PLACE    OF    DELIGHT. 

A     GREETING     H6     SANG 

AND   IT    MADE   OUR    BLOOD    BEAT, 

IT    TRAMPED    UPON    CUSTOM 

AND    MOCKED    AT    DEFEAT. 

HE   BUILDED  A  FIRE 

AND 'WE   TRIPPED    IN    A    KING, 

THE    EMBERS    OUR    BOOKS 

AND  THE  FAWN   OUR  GOOD  KING. 

AND    NOW    WE    APPROACHED 

ALL    THE    MYSTERIES    RARE 

THAT    SHADOWED    HIS    EYELIDS 

AND   BLEW   THROUGH    HIS    HAIR. 

THAT    SPELL   NOW   WAS   PEACE 


THE    DEEP    STRENGTH     OF    THE    TREES, 

THE   CHILDREN   OF    NATURE 

WK    CLAMBERED    HER    KNEES, 

OUR    BREATH   AND   OUR    MOODS 

WERE  IN   TUNE  WITH   HER  OWN, 

TREMENDOUS    HER    PRESENCE 

ETERNAL    HER   THRONE. 

THE    OSTRACISED    CHILD 

OUR   WHITE   FOREHEADS    KISSED, 

OUR    BODIES    AND    SOULS 

BECAME    LIGHTER    THAN     MIST. 

SWEET    DRESSES    LIKE    SNOW 

OUR    SMALL    LADY-LOVES    WORE, 

LIKE    MOONLIGHT    THE    THOUGHTS 

THAT    OUR    BOSOMS    UPBORE, 

LIKE   A   LILY   THE   TOUCH 

OF    EACH    COLD    LITTLE    HAND, 

THE    LOVES    OF    THE    STARS 

WE    COULD     NOW    UNDERSTAND. 

O     QUIVERING     AIR! 

O   THE   CRYSTALLINE   NIGHT! 

O    PAUSES    OF    AWE 

AND    THE    FACES    SWAN-WHITE! 
O    FERNS    IN    THE    DUSK! 
0    FOREST-SHRINED    HOUR! 

O    EARTH    THAT    SENT    UP 

THE   VAST   THRILL   AND   THE  POWEH. 

TO    LIFT    US    LIKE    LEAVES 

A    DELIRIOUS    WHIRL 

THE    MASTERFUL    BOY 

AND     THE     DELICATE    GIRL! 

WHAT    CHILD    THAT    STRANGE    NIGHT-TIME 

CAN    EVER   FORGET? 

HIS    FEALTY    DUE 

AND    HIS  -INFINITE    DEBT 

TO    THE    FOLLY    DIVINE,' 

TO    THE    EXQUISITE    RULE 

OF    THE    PERILOUS    MASTER 

THE   FAWN-FOOTED   FOOL? 
Ill 

NOW    SOLDIERS   WE    SEEM, 

AND  NIGHT  BRINGS  A  NEW  THING 

A    TERRIBLE    IRE 

AS    OF    THUNDER    AWING. 

A   WARRIOR  POWER, 

THAT    OLD    CHIVALRY    STIRRED, 

WHEN   KNIGHTS  TOOK   UP  ARMS. 

AS    THE    MAIDENS    GAVE    WORD. 

THE    END    OF    OUR    WAR, 

WILL   BE   WHITE-BANNERED   DAYS, 

WHEN  THE  TOWN   LIKE  A  GREAT 

BUDDING    ROSE    SHALL   UPRAISE! 

NEAR,    NEARER,  THAT    AVAR, 

AND    THAT    ECSTACY    COMES, 

WE  HEAR  THE  TREES  BEATING 


INVISIBLE    DRUMS. 

THE  FIELDS   OF  THE   NIGHT 

ARE    STARLIGHTED   ABOVE, 

OUR   GIRLS    ARE   WHITE    TORCHES 

OF    CONQUEST   AND   LOVE. 

NO    NERVE    WITHOUT    WILL, 

AND    NO    BREAST    WITHOUT    BREATH, 

WE    WHIRL    WITH    THE   PLANETS 

THAT    NEVER    KNOW    DEATH! 

THE  DANDELION. 

0  DANDELION,    RICH    AND    HAUGHTY, 
KING    OF    VILLAGE    FLOWERS ! 
EACH   DAY    IS    CORONATION    TIME, 
YOU    HAVE   NO    HUMBLE    HOURS. 

1  LIKE  TO   SEE   YOU   BRING   A   TROOP 
TO    BEAT    THE    BLUE-GRASS    SPEARS, 

TO        SCORN        THE       LAWN-MOWER        THAT 
WOULD   BE 

LIKE  FATE'S  TRIUMPHANT  SHEARS. 
YOUR  YELLOW  HEADS  ARE  CUT  AWAY, 
IT  SEEMS  YOUR  REIGN  IS  O'ER. 
BY  NOON  YOU  RAISE  A  SEA  OF  STARS 
MORE  GOLDEN  THAN  BEFORE. 

THE    LAMP    IN    THE   WINDOW. 
I     LIGHT     MY     HOMELY     LAMP     AGAIN     TO 
NIGHT, 
AND     SAY"— PERHAPS    A    WANDERING     ONE 

GOES    BY, 
HURRIED     PAST     DOOR-WAYS     WHERE     THE 

WATCH-DOGS    GROWL — 
THE    HEARTHS    THE    STRANGER    DARES    NOT 

COME  ANIGH. 

WE    SIT    IN    STOLID    CIRCLE   AT    THE    BOARD, 
AND   NEVER   A    SON   OR   DAUGHTER    TELLS    A 

TALE. 
THE    FAITHFUL    MOTHER    FINDS    NO    CHEER 

IN    TOIL, 

OUR  ROSY  INFANT'S  CROW  CAN   NAUGHT 

AVAIL. 
THE      COUNTRYSIDE      GROWS      DULL      WITH 

HOMES    UNSTIRRED, 
THE   PREACHER   PRATES    IN    LONG-FAMILIAR 

WORDS. 
THE      NEIGHBORS      COME,      WITH      WOODEN 

EYES,  TO  TALK 
OF      WEEDS      AND       FEXCES,      BARNS      AND 

FLOCKS    AND   HERDS. 
PERHAPS    TONIGHT    WITHIN    THE    SOAKING 

RAIN 
SOME   STORM-BLOWN   BOY   MOVES   ON   THAT 

WE   SHOULD   KEEP, 

TO  BRING  US  LAUGHTER  ROUND  OUR  ROAR 
ING    STOVE, 
TO  SHOW  US  WHY  WE   SOW  AND  WHY  WE 

REAP. 
TONIGHT,  PERCHANCE,   A  CONQUERING   ONE 

RETURNS, 
MASTER     OF     WEARINESS     AND     FATE     AND 

PAIN 
WITHIN    HIS    POCKET    NOTE-BOOKS    OF    HIS 

LORE, 
WITHIN    HIS    SOUL   GREAT    PASSIONS    HELD 

IN    REIN. 
PERHAPS,       TONIGHT       SOME       WILD      MAN 

PASSES    BY, 


BEARING     WISE     PARCHMENTS     FROM     OLD 

CITIES   GRIM, 
OR,     IT    MAY     BE,     A    BETTER    LAMP     THAN 

MINE 

MORE   LIKE   ALADDIN'S,    NOT,   LIKE   THIS 

ONE,    DIM. 
ALL    IT    WILL    NEED,     THE    OIL    AND    WICK 

AND   FLAME, 
AND  SHELTERED  ROOM  TO  KEEP  THE  WIND 

AWAY 
I      (AN      PROVIDE.       AH,      IF     A     LAMP     HE 

BRINGS, 
IT    SHALL    BE    TRIMMED    AND     BURNISHED 

EVERY     DAY! 


THE     HEARTH    ETERNAL. 

THERE  DWELT  A  WIDOW  LEANED  AND  DE 
VOUT, 

BEHIND  OUR  HAMLET  ON  THE  EASTERN 
HILL. 

THREE  SONS  SHE  HAD,  WHO  WENT  TO 
FIND  THE  WORLD, 

THEY  PROMISED  TO  RETURN,  BUT  WAND 
ERED  STILL. 

THE  CITIES  USED  THEM  WELL,  THEY  WON 
THEIR  WAY, 

RICH    GIFTS    THEY    SENT,    TO    STILL    THEIR 

MOTHER'S   SIGHS, 
WORN    OUT    WITH    HONORS,    AND    APART 

FROM    HER, 

T1IKY  DIED  AS  MANY  A  SELF-MADE  EXILE 
DIES. 

THE  MOTHER  HAD  A  HEARTH  THAT  WOULD 
NOT  QUENCH, 

THE  DEATHLESS  EMBERS  FOUGHT  THE 
CREEPING  GLOOM, 

SHE  SAID  TO  US  WHO  CAM£  WITH 
WONDERING  EYES 

"THIS   IS   A   MAGIC   FIRE,  A    MAGIC    ROOM." 

THE  PINE  BURNED  OUT,  BUT  STILL  THE 
COALS  GLOWED  ON, 

HER  GRAVE  GREW  OLD  BENEATH  THE  PEAR- 
TREE  SHADE, 

AND  YET  HER  CRUMBLING  HOME  EN 
SHRINED  THE  LIGHT, 

THE  NEIGHBORS  PEERING  IN  WERE  HALF- 
AFRAID. 

THEN  STURDY  BEGGARS,  NEEDING  FAGOTS 
CAME, 

ONE  AT  A  TIME,  AND  STOLE  THE  WALLS, 
AND  FLOOR. 

THEY  LEFT  A  NAKED  STONE,  BUT  HOW  IT 
BLAZED ! 

AND  IN  THE  THUNDERSTORM  IT  FLARED 
THE  MORE. 

AND  NOW  IT  WAS  THAT  MEN  WERE  HEARD 
TO  SAY, 

"THIS  LIGHT  SHOULD  BE  BELOVED  BY  ALL 
THE  TOWN." 

AT  LAST  THEY  MADE  THE  SLOPE  A  PLACE 
OF  PRAYER, 

WHERE  MARVELOUS  THOUGHTS  FROM  GOD 
CAME  SWEEPING  DOWN. 

THEY  LEFT  THEIR  CHURCHES  CRUMBLING 
IN  THE  SUN, 

THEY  MET  ON  THAT  SOFT  HILL.  ONE 
BROTHERHOOD; 


ONE  STRENGTH  AXD  VALOR  ONLY,  ONE  DE 
LIGHT, 

ONE  LAUGHING,  BROODING  GENIUS,  GREAT 
AND  GOOD. 

NOW  MANY  GKEY-HAIRE1)  PRODIGALS 
COME  HOME, 

THE  PLACE  OUT-FLAMES  THE  CITIES  OF 
THE  LAND, 

AND  TWICE-BORN  BRAHMANS  REACH  US 
FROM  ATAR, 

WITH  SUBTLE  EYES  PREPARED  TO  UNDER 
STAND. 

HIGHER  AND  HIGHER  BURNS  THE  EASTERN 


SHOWING    THE    ROADS    THAT    MARCH    FROM 

EVERYPLACE, 
A       STEADY      BEACON     O'ER      THE       WEARY 

LEAGUES, 

AT    DEAD    OF    NIGHT   IT   LIGHTS    THE    TRAV 
ELLER'S    FACE! 
THUS    HAS    THE   WIDOW    CONQUERED    HALF 

THE  EARTH, 
SHE    WHO    INCREASED    IN    FAITH,    THOUGH 

ALL  ALONE, 
WHE    KEPT    HER    EMPTY    HOUSE    A    MAGIC 

PLACE, 
HAS     MADE    THE    TOWN    A    HOLY    ANGEL'S 

THRONE. 


THE  BUSH  OF  BURNING  SPICE. 

FROM  DUST  CELESTIAL  THAT  A  CLOUD  LET 
FALL, 

A  BUSH  CAME  UP,  FULL  FORTY  YEARS  UN 
SEEN, 

THAT  SCATTERED  SMOKE  AND  EVER-BURN 
ING  SPICE 

ACROSS  A  FIELD  OF  THORNS  AND  BURDOCKS 
MEAN. 

AND  THEN  A  CRIPPLED  CHILD  ON  A  SWEET 
TIME, 

OF    HOLIDAY    BEHELD    IT    DECK    THE    MORN. 

HIS  FRIEND,  THE  PASTOR,  SAW  ONE 
BRANCH,  AND  SANG. 

THE  VILLAGE  LAUGHED  THE  FLIGHTY  PAIR 
TO  SCORN. 

LATER  THE  TWO  GROWN  OLD  AND  STAID 
DENIED, 

THE   SOLITARY   INSIGHT   OF   THEIR   YOUTH, 

AND  MOCKED  THEIR  CHILDREN,  WHO  WITH 
LAUGHTER  SANG, 

"OUR  EYES  BEHOLD  THE  DEATHLESS  BUSH 
OF  TRUTH." 

"WHY   DANCE,   PRAY   TELL,"  THE   CRIPPLE 

ASKED.  "AND  CHANT 
ABOUND  A  CINDER  IN  AN  EMPTY  LOT?" 
"NO   I:URXIXG  HUSH,"  THE  PASTOR  SAID, 

"HAS   BLOOMED 
SINCE     MOSES'     DAY.       NEW     MIRACLES 

COME     NOT." 

AND  YET  THOSE  KK.\GII.E  (  HII.DUE.V  GREW 
IN  STRENGTH, 

RADIANT  AND  KOYAL  AS  THE  YEARS  IN 
CREASED. 

AT  LAST  THEY  BROUGHT  THEIR  REVERENT 
LOVERS  THERE 

TO  BREATHE  THE  SMOKE  AS  THOUGH  IT 
WERE  A  FEAST. 


FROM  EVERY  BRANCH  FLEW  OUT  A  BAIN- 
BOW  BIRD, 

A  DARLING  SONGSTER  WITH  HIS  PLUMES 
AFLAME, 

AND  EVERY  BIRD  FLEW  ROUND  AND  KOI  M> 
A  CHILD, 

AND  SANG  OF  GOD,  AND  CALLED  THE  CHILD 
BY  NAME. 

THESE  SWEETHEART'S  NE'ER  WERE  FALSE. 

EACH  WOMAN  WORE 
WITHIN    HER   !.()(  KET   SAKE,    A   FEATHER 

BLUE, 
THAT    DROPPED    TO    HER    FROM    OUT    THOSE 

WHIRRING   PLUMES. 

A  TALISMAN   THAT   KEPT  HER  LOVER  TRUE. 
AND     YET     IN     AFTER     TIME     THOSE     DAYS 

GREW    DIM, 

AND   LEST   THEY   BE   FOREVER   LEFT   BEHIND 
THEY    WROTE   THEM    IN    A    BOOK    IN    NOBLE 

WORDS, 
SWEET      HYMNS      ABOUT      A      BUSH      THEY 

COULD    NOT    FIND! 


THE  WOMAN    CALLED   "BEAUTY"   AND 
HER  SEVEN   DRAGONS. 

A      POEM      FOR      THOSE      WHO      DESIRE      AN 
ESTHETIC     UTOPIA. 

SHE      BUILT      TO      THE      HEIGHT      OF      HE« 

BREAST, 

AN    EARTH-WORK   OF   THISTLES   AND  SOD. 
SHE      LAVED      HER      SOFT      ARMS      IN      THE 

SPRING, 

SHE    SCATTERED    THE    FIRE    WITH    A   BOD. 
THE    ROSE-PETAL    CHILD    BY    HER    SIDE, 
CRIED  OUT   WITH    A   COUNTENANCE   WHITE, 
THE   MOUND   THEY   HAD  BUILDED  AWOKE, 
WITH      EYES    THAT    WERE    BLINKING      AND 

BRIGHT. 

THE    SEVEN     STRANGE    DRAGONS    OF    ART, 
CAME  FORTH   LIKE  GOLD  PARCHMENTS   UN 
ROLLED, 

AND    FAWNED   ON    THE    SIBYL'S    DOVE-HAND, 
SUBMISSIVE   AS   SHEEP   FROM    THE   FOL1>. 
YET    SHIMMERING    OPALS    OF    FIRE, 

YET    TITAN    CHAMELEON KINGS, 

ALL    HISSING    IMPATIENTLY    THERE, 
UNSHEATHING     THEIR    TUSKS     AND    THEIR 

STINGS. 
SHE    LAUGHED    WHILE    THEY    FOAMED    O'El 

THE    FIELD, 

AND  BLASTED   THE   HEDGES    WITH    HEAT, 
AND   POUNDED   THE    BOULDERS    TO   DUST, 
AND   ATE   THE  RED   FAGOTS    LIKE    MEAT. 

II 

GO    FORTH.    TEAR    THIS    IRON    AGE    DOWN, 
"MY      SONS,"     THUS     THE     WISE     WOMAN 

SPOK I . 

"AND  SET  EVERY   FANTASY   FREE, 
AND  EVERY  CRUSHED  WORKER  UNYOKE. 

ESTABLISH  THE  SAN  DAL  WOOD  AGE, 
ESTABLISH  THE  WHITE  AGE  OF  ART, 
WHEN  EARTH  WILL  STILL  SIN  AS  OF  OLD, 
BUT  SIN  WITH  A  LOFTIER  HKAUT. 
\\Hi:\     (ATIIIS    AM)    BRAGGARTS    WILL 

SLAY, 
BUT  SLAY  WITH  A  LOFTIER  LUST, 


WHEN  LAUGHTER'S  BRIGHT  ROAD  WILL  BE 

CLEAN, 

AND  TRAGEDY'S  PATH  MORE  AUGUST. 
WHEN    YOUTH  WILL  CLIMB    RECKLESSLY 

STILL, 

BUT    CLIMB    DRAGON-GREAT    IN    ITS    PRIDE, 
AND    FULL-BLOODED,    FURIOUS    HOSTS, 
WILL     FLAUNT     MY     WHITE     BANNER     AND 

RIDi 

TO  FIGHT  AGAINST  BALLOTS  WITH  TRUTH, 
AGAINST   MOBS,    WITH    THE   CHISEL   AND 

PEN; 

THE  PRIZE  OF  MY  SOLDIERS  TO  BE 
FAIE  CONTINENTS  FITTED  FOR  MEN." 

Ill 

THE   DRAGONS   GAVE   HEED   TO   THAT  WORD, 
LIKE  FIELD-FLOWERS   THEY  BOWED   TO   HER 

BREATH, 
WHO     3IADE     THEM     AND     ORDERED     THEM 

FORTH, 

WITH    POWERS    OF    CREATION    AND    DEATH. 
THE      CHILD      SMOOTHED      THEIR     LEONINE 

MANES. 

FROM    WIZARDRY    HID    IN    THAT    HAND, 
THEY      GREW      AS      THE      THUNDER-CLOUDS 

GROW, 

ENCOMPASSING    WATER    AND    LAND. 
AND    OH,    HOW    THEIR    SERPENTINE    SCALES 
FLASHED,    RATTLED    AND    CRASHED    IN    THE 

AIR! 
THEY       CLIMBED     WITH       ALL-CONQUERING 

COILS, 

GOD'S    CRYSTAL,    IMPERIAL    STAIR. 
THEY     ROARED    THROUGH    THE    PATHWAYS 

OF  DAY, 
SKY       SWEEPING       THEIR       FOAM-FURROWS 

FLEW, 

THE   SUN   WAS   AN   ISLAND   BESIEGED, 
THEIR     PENNONS      TALL     WAVES     OF     THE 

BLUE. 

BEHEMOTHS    THEY     WERE    OF    THAT    TIDE, 
OVERHEAD      THAT    MEN     CALL    THE      HIGH 

NOON, 

THEIR  CRIES  IN  BLOOD-STIRRING  ACCORD, 
€IKE  TRUMPETS  OF  DOOMSDAY  IN  TUNE! 

AND     NOW     THEY     WERE     GONE     LIKE     THE 

WIND, 

AND  CLOUDLESS  AND  SILENT,  THE  HOUR, 
THE  SIBYL  WENT  BACK  TO  THE  TOWN, 
AND  HER  SONS  HURRIED  FORTH  IN  HEB 

POWER. 

THE  SOUL  OF  A   BUTTERFLY. 
I    STOOD   ON    THE   WALL   WITHOUT    A    DOOR, 
WHERE    THE    HEAVEX    OF    HEAVENS    BEGAN, 
ON    THE    SHOHE    OF    THE   DRIED-UP    DEEP    OF 

TIME, 

AND  DEATH  AND  HELL  AND  MAN. 
BEHIND     ME    ROSE     JERUSALEM, 
WITH    A    HUNDRED    WALLS    ON    HIGH, 
TO  THE   ZENITH   AND   THE  UPPER   SOUTH, 
TO   THE    HILLS    ABOVE    THE    SKY. 
I    COULD    NOT    FACE    THAT    ROYAL    TOWN, 
WITH   ITS    SIDES    OF    SOARING   LIGHT J 
I    STOOD    ON   THE    LOWEST    OUTER    WALL 
AND    LOOKED    TO    THE    NORTHERN    NIGHT. 
I  CREPT  TO  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  ADAMANT, 


AND    PEERED    DOWN    THE    AWFUL    STEEP, 
AND  THE  ANCIENT  EARTH   WAS   A   WILTING 

FLOWER, 

ON    THE   HEAVEN-LIT  FIELDS   OF   THE   DEEP. 
[  KNEW  OLD  WORMS  CONSUMED  HEB  FACE, 
I    KNEW    ALL    ELSE    WAS    FAIR, 
I   KNEW   SHE   WAS   THE  BLACKEST  PLACE 
WITHIN    THE   DEEPER   AIR. 

AT  LAST  A  CLOUD  FROM  THE  RIVER  DEATH, 
ROSE  ROUND  THAT  TOMB  OF  MEN, 
BUT  A  VOICE  WITHIN  ME  CRIED  TO  ME, 
''THE  EARTH  WILL  LIVE  AGAIN." 

AND      THE     CLOUD      OUTSPREAD      AND      HID 

THE    VOID, 

AND    FOUND    NOT    ANY    REST, 
TILL     THE     BOWL     OF      FATE      WAS      UI.I.KI' 

WITH     MIST, 

TO    THE    LEVEL    OF    MY    BREAST. 
AND    NOW    ON    THE    NORTH    HORIZON'S    RIM 
THE  DEAD  EARTH  FLOATED,  GRAY  AND  DIM. 
IT    SEEMED    TO    ALWAYS    FLOAT    TO    ME, 
AND    THERE   I   WATCHED    IT   ENDLESSLY. 
I   SAW  THAT  DEAD  EARTH  BUD  AND  BLOOM, 
AND  FLASH  WITH   GOLD  AND  RED! 
AND   NOW   IT  LOOKED    ME  IN   THE   FACE, 
A    BUTTERFLY   OF    WONDROUS    GRACE, 
THE     SOUL    OF    A     GIANT    BUTTERFLY 
ARISEN    FROM    THE   DEAD! 


RELIGIOUS  VERSES 

HERE'S    TO    THE    SPIRIT    OF    FIRE. 

HERE'S  TO  THE  SPIRIT  OF  FIRE,  WHEREVER 

THE  FLAME  IS  UNFURLED, 
IN  THE  SUN,  IT  MAY  BE,  AS  A  TORCH,  TO 

LEAD  ON  AND  ENLIGHTEN  THE  WORLD", 
THAT  MELTED  THE  GLACIAL  STREAMS,  IX 

THE  DAY  THAT  NO  MEMORIES  REACH, 
THAT  SHIMMERED  IN  AMBER  AND  SHELL 

AND  WEED  ON  THE  EARLIEST  BEACH; 
THE  GENIUS  OF  LOVE  AND  OF  LIFE,  THE 

POWER  THAT  WILL  EVER  ABOUND, 
THAT  WAITS  IN  THE  BONES  OF  THE  DEAD, 

WHO       SLEEP     TILL     THE       JUDGMENT 

SHALL  SOUND. 
HERE'S    TO  THE  SPIRIT  OF  FIRE,    WHEN 

CLOTHED  IN  SWIFT  MUSIC  IT  COMES, 
THE  GLOW  OF  THE  HARVESTING  SONGS,  THE 

VOICE  OF  THE  NATIONAL  DRUMS; 
THE  WHIMSICAL,  VARIOUS  FIRE,  IX  THE 

RHYMES  AND  IDEAS  OF  MEN, 
BURIED  IN  BOOKS  FOR  AN  AGE,  EXPLODING 

AND  WRITHING  AGAIN, 
AND    BLOWN    A    RED    WIND    ROUND    THE 

WORLD,    CONSUMING    THE   LIES    IN    ITS 
MIRTH, 

THEN  LOCKED  IN  DARK  VOLUMES  FOR 
LONG,  AND  BURIED  LIKE  COAL  IN  THE 
EARTH. 

HERE'S  TO  THE  COMFORTING  FIRE  IN  THE 

JOYS    OF    THE    BLIND    AND    THE    MEEK, 
IN    THE    CUSTOMS    OF    LETTERLESS    LANDS, 

IN     THE     THOUGHTS     OF     THE     STUPID" 

AND    WEAK. 
IN  THE  WEARIEST  LEGENDS  THEY  TELL,   IN 

THEIR    CRUELEST    COLDEST    BELIEF, 


IN  THE  PROVERBS  OF  COUNTER  OR  TILL,  IN 
THE  ARTS  OF  THK  PRIEST  OR  THE 
THIEF. 

HERE'S  TO  THE  SPIRIT  OF  FIRE,  THAT 
NEVER  THE  OCEAN  CAN  DROWN, 

THAT  GLOWS  IN  THE  PHOSPHORENT  WAVE, 
AND  GLEAMS  IN  THE  SEA-ROSES 

CROWN ; 

THAT  SLEEPS  IN  THE  SUNBEAM  AND  MIST, 
THAT  CREEPS  AS  THE  WISE  CAN  BUT 
KNOW, 

A  WONDER,  AX  INCENSE,  A  WHIM,  A  PER 
FUME,  A  FEAR  AND  A  GLOW, 

ENSNARING  THE  STARS  WITH  A  SPELL, 
AND  HOLDING  THE  EARTH  IN  A  XET, 

YEA,  FILLING  THE  NATIONS  WITH  PRAYER, 
WHEREVER  MAN'S  PATHWAY  IS  SET. 

LOOK   YOU,    I'LL  GO   PRAY. 

LOOK  YOU,  I'LL  GO  PRAY, 
MY  SHAME  IS  CRYING, 
MY  SOUL  IS  GREY  AXD  FAINT, 
MY  FAITH  IS  DYING. 

LOOK  YOU,  I'LL  GO  PRAY 

"SWEET  MARY,   MAKE  ME  CLEAN, 
THOU  RAINSTORM  OF  THE  SOUL, 
THOU  WINE  FROM  WORLD'S  UNSEEN." 

THE    MISSIONARY    MISGIVING. 
(WILL     THE     WORLD     BE     BUT     NOMINALLY 

-.;  £  <i  -.-CHRISTIAN  ?  ) 
I    SEE    ANOTHER    LUTHER 
BRING    WRATH    TO    INDIA'S    EYES. 
I    SEE  AX   INQUISITION 
BY   CHINA'S   CHURCHES    RISE. 
I    SEE    ANOTHER    CROMWELL 
SET   FIRE   TO    GRIM    JAPAN, 
LONG    IS    THE    ROAD    AXD    DREADFUL, 
WHEREBY    CHRIST    CONQUERS'    .MAX. 
OR,   IF  OUR   CREEDS    SHALL   CRUMBLE? 
WHAT   IF    THE    AGES    SEE, 
A  JESUS  LIKE  TO  BUDMHA, 
UNDER    THE    BOHDl    TREE? 
A   CHRIST    TOO   LIKE   CONFUCIUS, 
WITH    SILKEN    ROBE    AXD    FAX? 
YET    ARE    THE    YEARS    TRIUMPHANT 
IF. CHRIST    SHALL   CONQUER    MAN. 
FOR  CHRIST  HAS   COME  IX  GLORY, 
WHEX    MEX   ARE   BROTHERS   HERE, 
WHEN     SWORDS    ARE    TURNED    TO    PLOUGH 
SHARES, 

AND  PEACE  HAS  VANQUISHED  FEAR. 
WHATEVER   TOMB  ENFOLDS    HIM, 
HOWEVER   STRANGE   HIS   PLAN, 
THE   EARTH    SHALL   BE    HIS    THRONE-ROOM, 
OUR   CHRIST    SHALL   CONQUER   MAN! 

FOREIGN    MISSIONS    IN    BATTLE 

ARRAY. 

AN    ENDLESS    LINE    OF    SPLENDOR, 
THESE    TROOPS    WITH    HEAVEN    FOR    HOME, 
WITH  CREEDS  THEY   CO    FROM    SCOTLAND, 
WITH    INCENSE   GO    FROM    ROME. 
THESE,   IN   THE  NAME  OF   JESUS, 
AGAINST    THE   DARK    f;ODS    STAND, 
THEY  GIRD  THE   EARTH   WITH   VALOR, 
THEY    HEED    THEIR    KING'S    COMMAND. 


ONWARD   THE   LINE   ADVANrFS, 

SHAKING    THE    HILLS    WITH    POWKR. 

SLAYING    THE    HIDDEN    DEMONS, 

THE    LIONS    THAT    DEVOUR. 

NO    BLOODSHED    IN    THE    WRESTLING. — 

BUT    SOULS    NEW-BORN    ARISE — 

THE    NATIONS   GROWING    KINDER, 

THE   CHILD-HEARTS    GROWING    WISE. 

WHAT    IS    THE    FINAL    ENDING? 

THE   ISSUE,    CAN    WE   KNOW? 

WILL    CHRIST    OUTLIVE    MOHAMMED? 

WILL    KALI'S    ALTAR    GO? 

THIS    IS    OUR   FAITH    TREMENDOUS. — 

OUR    WILD    HOPE,    WHO    SHALL    SCORN. — 

THAT  IN  THE  NAME  OF  JESUS 

THE   WORLD    SHALL    BE   REBORN! 

GALAHAD,     KNIGHT    WHO     PERISHED. 
A     POEM      DEDICATED     TO     ALL     CRUSADERS 
AGAINST    THE    INTERNATIONAL    AND 
INTERSTATE    TRAFFIC     IN- 
YOUNG    GIRLS. 
GALAHAD        *        *        *        SOLDIER    THAT    PER 


ISHED 


*       *       * 


ACES    AGO, 


OUR  HEARTS  ARE  BREAKING  WITH  SHAME, 

OUR  TEARS  OVERFLOW. 
GALAHAD     *     *     *   'KNIGHT  WHO  PER 
IS  11 1  I)  *     *     *    AWAKEN  AGAIN, 
TEACH    US'  TO    FIGHT    FOR    IMMACULATE 

WAYS  AMONG  MEX. 
SOLDIERS   FANTASTIC,   WE   PRAY   TO   THE 

STAR  OF  THE  SEA, 
WE  PRAY  TO  THE  MOTHER  OF  GOO  THAT 

WHITE  SLAVES  MAY  BE  FREE. 
ROSE-CROWNED  LADY   FROM   HEAVEN.  GIVE 

US  THY  GRACE, 

HELP  US  THE  DESPERATE,  DESPERATE  BAT 
TLE  TO  FACE 
TILL  THE  LEER  OF  THE  TRADER  IS  SEEN 

XEVERMORE  IN  THE  LAND, 
TILL  WE 'BRING  EVERY  MAID  OF  THE  AGE 

TO  ONE  SHELTERING  HAND. 
AH,  THEY  ARE  PRICELESS,  THE  PALE  AXD 

THE  IVORY  AND  RED! 
BREATHLESS  WE  GAZE  ON  THE  CURLS  OF 

EACH  GLORIOUS  HEAD! 
ARM   THEM   WITH    STRENGTH    MEDIEVAL, 

THY  MARVELOUS  DOWER, 
BLAST    XOW    THEIR   TEMPTERS.    SHELTER 

THEIR  STEPS  WITH  THY  POWER. 

LEAVE  NOT  LIFE'S  FAIREST  TO  PERISH 

STRANGERS  TO  THEE, 
LET  XOT  THE  WEAKEST  BE  SHIPWRECKED, 

Oil,    STAR    OF    THE    SEA! 


THE    PERILOUS    ROAD. 

A  POEM  FOR  SPIRITUALISTS. 

"HERMIT,"  THE  YOUTH  SAID,  "TEACH  MY 
HEART  THE  WAYS 

OF   HEAVEN'S   FREE   DAYS. 

AND  ARE  THEIR  PLEASURES  VARIOUS, 
FRAGILE,  FLEET 

WHERE  BRIGHT  SOULS   MEET? 

FATHER  IN  GOD,  FOR  I  HAVE  FASTED  LONG, 

TEACH  A  WILD  SONG. 

TEACH  ME,  THE  WHILE  I  KNEEL,  A  CURI 
OUS  PRAYER 

TO  RULE  THE  AIR. 


SHOW    ME   THE   SECRET  DOOR   THAT   OPENS 

WIDE 

WHERE    CHARIOTS    RIDE. 
CHARIOTS   THAT   COME   TO   WHIRL   YOU   TO 

THE    SKY, 
WHEN  EVE  IS  NIGH, 
CHARIOTS   THAT   BEAR   YOU   BACK   TO   TIME 

AND    SPACE, 
AND  THIS   GRIM  PLACE." 

"NAY,"  SAID  THE  PALSIED  MAN,  "i  KEEP 

THE   SPELL 

OF  HEAVEN,  OF  HELL. 
NAY,    THOUGH    YOU    KNEEL,    GOOD    YOUTH, 

I  WILL  NOT   SHOW 
WHAT    HERMITS    KNOW. 

SELDOM  I  DARE  TO  OPEN  WIDE  MINE  EYES, 
BY    THAT    PATH    LIES 

TERROR,    AND    ROSE-BRIARS    FIERCE    WILL 

PIERCE  AND  SEAR, 
THIS  OLD  FRAME  HERE. 
HE  WHO  WOULD  SPEAK  TO  STRANGERS  IN 

THE  NIGHT 
GOING  BY,   IN  WHITE: 
HE   WHO   WOULD    SPEAK   TO   CHRIST    IN 

FUNERAL  ROOMS 
AND  BY  NEW  TOMBS  I 

WHO  WOULD  TOUCH  THE  HOT-WINGED, 
TALL  IMMORTAL  MEN, 

AND    RETURN    AGAIN! 

MUST  SCORN  HIS  DAILY  LIFE  AND  NATURAL 
FRIENDS, 

SUCH  FRIENDSHIP  ENDS. 

HE  MUST  LEAVE  HIS  SWEETHEART  WEEP 
ING  IN  THE  LANE, 

TO    FORESTALL    HER    PAIN 

WHEN  HE  WAKES  ONCE  MORE,  HER  FIND 
ING  HIM  SO  COLD 

TO   THEIR   LOVE  OF   OLD. 

A  HEAVEN  OF  HEAVENS  IS  NOT  ALWAYS 
WORTH 

A    SURRENDERED    EARTH. 

ONE  BLAST  OF  THAT  PERILOUS  AIR  DRIES 
UP  THE  HEART, 

YEA.    IT    SETS    APART 

FROM  ALL  THINGS  HERE  THE  SEER,  HALF 
MAD,  ALONE, 

LIKE   A   LEAF,    A    STONE." 

HEART  OF  GOD. 
A    PRAYER    IX    THE    JUNGLES    OF    HEAVEN. 

O  GREAT  HEART  OF  GOD, 

ONCE    VAGUE    AND    LOST    TO    ME, 

WHY  DO  I  THROB  WITH  YOUR  THROB  TO 
NIGHT, 

IN    THIS    LAND,    ETERNITY? 

O    LITTLE    HEART    OF    GOD, 

SWEET   INTRUDING    STRANGER, 

YOU  ARE  LAUGHING  IN  MY  HUMAN 
BREAST, 

A    CHRIST-CHILD   IN    A    MANGER. 

HEART,   DEAR    HEART  OF  GOD, 

BESIDE  YOU  NOW  I  KNEEL, 

STRONG  HEART  OF  FAITH.  O  HEART  NOT 
MINE, 

WHERE    GOD     HAS     SET    HIS     SEAL. 

WILD    THUNDERING    HEART    OF    GOD 

OUT    OF    MY    DOUBT    I    COME, 


AND    MY    FOOLISH    FEET    WITH    PROPHETS' 

FEET, 
MARCH    WITH    THE     PROPHETS'     DRUM. 

IN   MEMORY   OF   A    CHILD. 

I 

THE    ANGELS    GUIDE    HIM     XOW, 
AND    WATCH    HIS    CURLY    HEAD. 
AND  LEAD  HIM   IN   THEIR  GAMES, 
THE   LITTLE    BOY    WE    LED. 

II 

HE   CANNOT  COME   TO   HARM, 
HE   KNOWS   MORE  THAN   WE  KNOW. 
HIS    LIGHT    IS    BRIGHTER    FAR 
THAN  DAYTIME  HERE  BELOW. 

Ill 

HIS   PATH   LEADS   OX   AND   ON, 
THROUGH  PLEASAXT  LAWNS  AXD  FLOWERS, 
HIS   BROWN    EYES    OPEN    WIDE 
AT   GRASS    MORE    GREEN    THAX    O.URS. 

IV 

WITH   PLAYMATES    LIKE   HIMSELF, 
THE    SHINING    BOY    WILL    SIX(;. 
EXPLORING    WOXDROUS    WOODS, 
SWEET    WITH    ETERNAL    SPRING. 

V 

YET,    HE    IS    LOST   TO    US, 
FAR    IS    HIS    PATH    OF    GOLD, 
FAR   DOES   THE   CITY   SEEM, 
LONELY    OUR    HEARTS    AND    OLD. 

RHYMES  OF  THE  DAY 
AND  HOUR 

IN  PRAISE  OF  SONGS  THAT  DIE. 
AFTER    HAVING    READ    A    GREAT    DEAL    OF 
GOOD  CURRENT  POETRY    IX   THE  MAGAZINES 
AND    NEWSPAPERS. 

AH,    THEY    ARE    PASSING,    PASSING    BY, 

WONDERFUL    SONGS,   BUT   BORX    TO   DIE! 

CRIES    FROM    THE   INFINITE    IUMAX    SEAS, 

WAVES  THRICE-WINGED  WITH   HARMONIES. 

HERE   I   STAXD   ON   A   PIER    IN    THE   FOAM 

SEEING  THE  SONGS  TO  THE  BEACH  (iO 
HOME 

DYING  IN  SAND  WHILE  THE  TIDE  FLOWS 
BACK, 

AS  IT  FLOWED  OF  OLD  IN  ITS  FATED  TRACK. 

OH  HURRYING  TIDE  THAT  WILL   XOT  HEAR 

YOUR    OWN    FOAM-CHILDREN    DYING    NEAR! 

IS    THERE    NO    REFUGE-HOUSE    OF    SON<;. 

XO  HOME,  NO  HAVEX  WHERE  SONGS  BE 
LONG  ? 

OH  PRECIOUS  HYMXS  THAT  COME  AXD  <;f>! 

YOU    PERISH,    AND    I    LOVE    YOU    SO! 


FORMULA   FOR  A   UTOPIA. 
LET  EVERY  CHILD  BE  BORN  OF  PASSIONATE 

LOVE, 

CRADLED  IX  TENDERNESS  AND  SACRED  JOY! 
GAY    LITTLE    MAIDENS    WITH    THE    HEARTS 

OF    NUNS 

LET   GALAHAD    BE   BORN    IX    EVERY    BOY. 


THE     PERFECT     MARRIAGE. 
I. 

I   HATE    THIS    YOKE;    FOB    THE    WORLD'S 

SAKE    HERE    PIT    IT    ONI 

KNOWING    'TWILL   WEIGH    AS    MUCH    ox 

YOU  TILL  LIFE   IS   GONE. 
KNOWING   YOU  LOVE   YOUR    FREEDOM   DEAR, 

AS   I   LOVE    MINK — 
K\.>\\IXG     THAT     LOVE     UNCHAINED     HAS 

BEEN  OUR  LIFE'S  GREAT  WINE: 

OUR    ONE    GREAT    WINE,     (YKT    SPENT    TOO 

SOON,    AND    SERVING    NONE; 
OF  THE  TWO  CUPS  FREE  LOVE  AT  LAST  THE 

DEADLY    ONE.) 

II. 

WE  GRANT   OUR   MEETINGS    WILL   BE   TAME. 

NOT    HONEY-SWEET, 
NO  LONGER   TURNING  TO  THE  TRYST  WITH 

FLYING    FEET. 
WE     KNOW     THE     TOIL     THAT     NOW     MUST 

COME  WILL  SPOIL  THE  BLOOM 
AND     TENDERNESS     OF     PASSION'S     TOUCH. 

AND   IN   IT'S   ROOM 
WILL    COME    TAME    HABIT,    DEADLY    CALM, 

SORROW    AND    GLOOM. 
OH  HOW  THE  BATTLE  SCARS  THE  BEST  WHO 

ENTER    LIFE! 
EACH    SOLDIER   COMES   OUT  BLIND  OR   LAME 

FROM    THE    BLACK    STRIFE. 
MAD    OR    DISEASED    OR     DAMNED    OF     SOUL 

THE    BEST    MAY    COME 

IT      MATTERS      NOT      HOW      MERRILY      NOW 

ROLLS     THE    DRUM, 
THE      FIFE      SHRILLS       HIGH,      THE      HORN 

SINGS    LOUD.    TILL   NO   STEPS   LAG 

AND      ALL     ADORE     THAT      SILKEN      FLAME, 

DESIRE'S  GREAT  FLAG. 
in. 

WE    WILL    BUILD    STRONG    OUK    TINY    FORT, 

STRONG  AS   WE  CAN- 
HOLDING     ONE     INNER     ROOM     BEYOND     THE 

SWORD    OF    .MAN. 
LOVE    IS    TOO    WIDE,     IT    SEEMS     TODAY.     TO 

HIDE    IT    THERE, 
IT    SKKMS    TO    FLOOD    THE    FIELDS    OK    CORN. 

AND    GILD    THE    AIR 

IT  SEEMS   TO   I5RLATHK   FKO.M    EVERY   BROOK, 

FROM    FLOWERS    TO    SIGH — 
IT      SEEMS      A      CATARACT      POUItKD      DOWN 

FROM    THE    GREAT    SKY; 
IT  SEEMS   A  TENDERNESS    SO    VAST    No    I'.USH 

BUT    SHOWS 


ITS    HAUNTING    AND  TRANSFIGURING    LlGIli 

WHEKK     WONDER     GLOWS. 
IT      WRAPS      US    HS"    A    SII.KKN      SNARE      BY 

SHADOWY    STREAMS, 
AND    WII.DERIN<;    SWKKT    AND    STUNG    WITH 

JOY    YOUR    WIHTK    SOUL    SKKMS 
A      FLA  Ml--'.      A      FLAME,      ro.MjUKRING      DAY. 

CONQUERING     NIGHT. 
BROUGHT    FROM     OUR    GOD.    A     HOLY      I  HIM,. 

A    MAD    DELIGHT. 
BUT     LOVE,     WHEN      ALL     THINGS     I'.KAT      IT 

DOWN,    LEAVES    THE    WIDE    A  IK, 
THE    HEAVENS    A  UK    GREY.     AND     MEN     TURN 

WOLVES,    LEAN    WITH    DESPAIR. 
AH,      WHEN      WE     NEED      LOVE      MOST.      AND 

WEEP,    WHEN    ALL    IS    DARK, 
LOVE    IS    A    PINCH     OF     ASHES    GREY,     WITH 

ONE     LIVE     SPARK — 
YET    ON    THE    HOPE    TO     KEEP     ALIVE    1  HAT 

TREASURE     STRANGE 
HANGS      ALL      EARTH'S      STRUGGLE.      STRIFE 

AND    SCORN.    AND    DESPERATE    <  HAN(,E. 


LOVE?    *    *         WE  WILL  SCARCELY  LOVE 

OUR  BABES,  FULL.  MANY  A  TIME— 
KNOWING   THEIR    SOULS    AND   OURS   TOO 

WELL.  AND  ALL  OUR  GRIME 

AND   THERE   BESIDE   OUR   HOLY    HEARTH 

WE'LL  HIDE  OUR  EYES — 
LEST   WE   SHOULD   FLASH    WHAT   SEE  Ms 

DISDAIN  WITHOUT  DISGUISE. 
YET  THERE  SHALL  HE  NO  WAVERING  THERE 

IX  THAT  DEEP  TRIAL 

AND  NO  FALSE  FIRE  OR  STRANGER  HAND  OR 

TRAITOR  VILE — 
WE'LL  FIGHT  THE  GLOOM  AND  FIGHT  THE 

WORLD  WITH  STRONG  SWORD-PLAY, 
ENTRENCHED  WITHIN    OUR   BLOCK-HOUSE 

SMALL,  EVER  AT  BAY 

AS  FELLOW-WARRIORS.  UNDERPAID,  WOUND 
ED  AND  WILD, 
TRUE    TO  THK1K    MATTERED   FLAG,    THEIR 

FAITH  STILL  UXDKFII.KD! 


IV  E    WILL   DO    WELL.       WE'LL   SAVE   THROUGH 
LIFE  LOVE'S    SPARK.    I.OVE's   <;K.M. 

WE'LL    GUARD    NO    MAN-MADE    HEAP    <»• 

COINS    OB    DIADEM 

HUT    CLASP    WORN    HANDS.    AND    \  OW    GREAT 

VOWS     TO     GOD     A  HOVE, 
KEKPINi.      I    N</UE\<   HKD     THROUGH      STORM 

AND    FEAR.    ONE    SPARK    OF    I.OVI  ' 


THE    LEADEN    EYED. 
LET  NOT  YOUNG  SOULS  BE  SMOTHERED  OUT 

BEFOKE 
THEY      DO      QUAINT      DEEDS      AND      FULLY 

FLAUNT   THEIR   PRIDE. 

IT  is  THE  WORLD'S  ONE  CRIME  ITS  BABES 

GROW  DULL, 
ITS   POOR   ARE   OX-LIKE,   LIMP   AND   LEADEN 

EYED. 
NpT    THAT    THEY    STARVE,    BUT    STARVE    SO 

DREAMLESSLY, 
NOT    THAT    THEY     SOW,    BUT    THAT    THEY 

SELDOM   REAP, 
NOT  THAT  THEY  SERVE,  BUT  HAVE  NO  GODS 

TO  SERVE, 
.NOT   THAT   THEY  DIE,   BUT  THAT  THEY  DIE 

LIKE    SHEEP. 

THE  FOLLOWING  VERSES  WERE  WRITTEN 
ON  THE  EVENING  OF  MARCH  THE  FIRST, 
NINETEEN  HUNDRED  AND  ELEVEN,  AND 
PRINTED  NEXT  MORNING  IN  THE  ILLINOIS 
STATE  REGISTER. 

THEY  CELEBRATE  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  THE 
NEWS  THAT  THE  UNITED  STATE  SENATE 
HAD  DECLARED  THE  ELECTION  OF  WILLIAM 
LORIMER  GOOD  AND  VALID,  BY  A  VOTE  OF 
FORTY-SIX  TO  FORTY. 

TO   THE   UNITED    STATES    SENATE. 
REVELATION    16 1     VERSES    16    THROUGH    19. 
AND    MUST    THE    SENATOR    FROM    ILLINOIS 
HE    THIS    SQUAT    THING,    WITH    BLINKING, 

HALF-CLOSED  EYES? 
THIS     BRAZEN     GUTTER     IDOL,     REARED     TO 

POWER 

UPON  A  LEERING  PYRAMID  OF  LIES? 

AND  MUST  THE  SENATOR  FROM  ILLINOIS 

BE  THE  WORLD'S  PROVERB  OF  SUCCESSFUL 

SHAME, 
DAZZLING    ALL    STATE    HOUSE    FLIES    THAT 

STEAL   AND    STEAL, 
WHO,      WHEN      THE     SAD      STATE      SPARES 

THEM,    COUNT  IT   FAME? 
IF  ONCE  OR  TWICE  WITHIN  HIS   NEW  WON 

HALL 
HIS   VOTE   HAD   COUNTED   FOR   THE   BROKEN 

MEN; 
IF    IN    HIS    EARLY    DAYS    HE   WROUGHT 

SOME  GOOD— 
WE  MIGHT  A  GREAT  SOUL'S  SINS  FORGIVE 

HIM   THEN. 

BUT  MUST  THE  SENATOR  FROM  ILLINOIS 
BE  VINDICATED  BY  FAT  KINGS  OF  GOLD? 
AND  MUST  HE  BE  BELAUDED  BY  THE 

SMIRCHED, 
THE     SLEEK,     UNCANNY     CHIEFS     JN     LIES 

GROWN    OLD? 
BE     WARNED,     OH,      WANTON     ONES,     WHO 

SHIELDED    HIM 

BLACK    WRATH    AWAITS.      YOU    ALL   SHALL 

EAT    THE    DUST. 

YOU  DARE  NOT  SAY!     "TOMORROW  WILL 

BRING  PEACE; 
LET  US  MAKE  MERRY,  AND  GO  FORTH  IN 

LUST." 

WHAT  WILL  YOU  TRADING   FROGS  DO   ON   A 
DAY 


WHEN  ARMAGEDDON  THUNDERS  THROUGH 

THE  LAND; 
WHEN    EACH    SAD    PATRIOT    RISES,    MAD 

WITH   SHAME, 

HIS  BALLOT  OR  HIS  MUSKET  IN  HIS  HAND? 
IN  THE  DISTRACTED  STATES  FROM  WHICH 

YOU    CAME 

THE  DAY  IS  BIG  WITH  WAR  HOPES  FIERCE 

AND  STRANGE; 
OUB    IRON    CHICAGOS    AND    OUR    GROIY 

MINES 

RUMBLE    WITH    HATE    AND    LOVE    AND    SOL 
EMN    CHANGE. 
TOO    MANY      WEARY      MEN      SHED    HONEST 

TEARS, 
GROUND     BY     MACHINES     THAT     GIVE     THE 

SENATE    EASE. 
TOO    MANY    LITTLE   BABES    WITH   BLEEDING 

HANDS 
HAVE    HEAPED    THE    FRUITS    OK   EMPIRE    ON 

YOUR  KNEES. 
AND  SWINE  WITHIN   THE   SENATE  IN   THIS 

DAY, 

WHEN  ALL  THE  SMOTHERING  BY-STREETS 

WEEP  AND  WAIL; 
WHEN  WISDOM  BREAKS  THE  HEARTS  OF 

HER  BEST  SONS; 
WHEN  KINGLY  MEN,  VOTING  FOB  TRUTH, 

MAY  FAIL: — 
THESE  ARE  A  PORTENT  AND  A  CALL  TO 

ARMS. 

OUR   PROTEST   TURNS   INTO   A   BATTLE   CRY: 
"OUR    SHAME    MUST    END,    OUB    STATES    BE 

FREE   AND    CLEAN  J 
AND    IN    THIS    WAR    WE    CHOOSE    TO    LIVE 

AND    DIE." 

DREAMS   IN  THE   SLUM. 

SOME  MEN,  NOT  BLIND,  STILL  THINK  AMID 

THE     FILTH. 
SOME     SCHOLARS     SEE    VAST     CITIES     LIKE 

THE    SUN: 
BRIGHT   HIVES  OF   POWER,   OF   JUSTICE   AND 

OF    LOVE, 
IN     BRAINS     LIKE     THESE    OUR     ZION     HAS- 

BEGUN. 
WHAT     WILL     YOU     DO     TO     MAKE     THEIR 

THOUGHT    COME    TRUE? 
OB    WILL    YOU    TREAD    THEIR    PEARLS    INTO 

THE    EARTH? 
FRIENDS,  WHEN  SUCH  VOICES  RISE  DESPITE 

THE    TIME, 
WHAT     ARE     YOUR     SHABBY,     RICH     MAN'S 

TEMPLES   WORTH? 


THE  EAGLE  THAT  IS   FORGOTTEN. 

(JOHN   P.   ALTGELD.       BORN  DEC.   30,    1847; 

DIED  MARCH   12,   1902.) 
SLEEP  SOFTLY      *      *      *     EAGLE  FORGOTTEN 

*      *      *      UNDER   THE   STONE. 
TIME  HAS  ITS  WAY  WITH  YOU  THERE,  AND 

THE    CLAY    HAS    ITS    OWN. 
"WE    HAVE    BURIED    HIM    NOW,"    THOUGHT 

YOUR  FOES,   AND  IN    SECRET  REJOICED. 
THEY     MADE     A     BRAVE     SHOW     OF     THEIR 

MOURNING,    THEIR    HATRED    UNVOICED. 


THEY    HAD    SNARLED    AT    YOU,    BABKEO    AT 

YOU,  FOAMED  AT  YOU  DAY  AFTEE  DAY, 

NOW    YOU    WEBB    ENDED.       THEY    PRAISED 

YOU,      *      *      *      AND  LAID  YOU  AWAY. 

THE     OTHERS     THAT     MOUBNED     YOU     IN 

SILENCE   AND   TERROR   AND   TRUTH. 
THE    WIDOW    BEREFT    OF    HER    CRUST,    AND 

THE    BOY    WITHOUT    YOUTH, 
THE   MOCKED  AND  THE  SCORNED   AND   THE 

WOUNDED,    THE   LAME   AND   THE    POOR 
THAT     SHOULD     HAVE     BEMEMBERED     FOR 
EVER,      *      *      *      REMEMBER  NO  MORE. 
WHERE   ARE   THOSE   LOVERS   OF   YOURS,   ON 

WHAT  NAME  DO  THEY  CALL 
THE    LOST,    THAT    IN    ARMIES    WEPT    OVER 

YOUR    FUNERAL* PALL? 
THEY  CALL  ON  THE  NAMES  OF  A  HUNDRED 

HIGH- VALIANT   ONES, 
A     HUNDRED   WHITE   EAGLES   HAVE     RISEN 

THE  SONS  OF  YOUR  SONS, 
THE  ZEAL  IN  THEIR  WINGS  IS  A  ZEAL  THAT 

YOUR   DREAMING    BEGAN 
THE  VALOR  THAT  WORE  OUT  YOUR  SOUL  IN 

THE   SERVICE  OF  MAN. 
SLEEP   SOFTLY,    *      *      *    EAGLE   FORGOTTEN, 

*      *      *      UNDER  THE   STONE, 
TIME     HAS     ITS     WAY     WITH     YOU     THERE 

AND   THE   CLAY    HAS    ITS   OWN. 
SLEEP  ON,  O  BRAVE  HEARTED,  O  WISE  MAN, 

THAT  KINDLED  THE  FLAME 

TO   LIVE   IN   MANKIND  IS   FAB  MOBE  THAN 

TO  LIVE   IN   A   NAME, 
TO  LIVE   IN    MANKIND,   FAR  FAR   MORE     *     * 

THAN   TO   LIVE  IN   A   NAME. 


TO   THOSE   THAT   WOULD   MEND 
THESE    TIMES. 

GO      PLANT     THE     ARTS     THAT     WOO      THE 

WEARIEST, 
BOLD    ARTS    THAT    SIMPLE    WORKMEN    UN- 

DERSAND, 
THAT   MAKE   NO  POOR  MEN   AND  KEEP  ALL 

MEN   RICH, 

AND  THRONE  OUR  LADY  BEAUTY  IN  THE 
LAND! 


TO    THOSE    THAT    WOULD    HELP    THE 
FALLEN. 

GO  PLANT   THE   CRAFTS    THAT   GIVE  A   DEEP 
DELIGHT 

TO  ALL  WHO   MAKE,   TO  ALL  WHO   USE 

AND  SEE: — 
NEW  CRAFTS  WHERE  ROUGHEST  MEN  CAN 

HINT  AT  THE  THOUGHT 
AND  WRITE  LIFE'S  LYBIC  IN  A  HAND  SET 

FREE: 
THE  DEATHLESS  TOUCH  OF  AGES  WORKED 

ANEW 

UPON   THE  DOOR  OF  EVERY  TINIEST  ROOM: 
THE     JOY     OF     LIVING     PAINTED     ON     THE 

WAIXS, 

AND  DAZZLING  FABRICS  WROUGHT  ON  ART'S 

HOME-LOOM. 
DECKING  THE  PARKS:    VAIR,  VELVET,  SILK 

AND  GOLD: 


OLD  PAGEANTS  MARCHING  THAT  WERE 
LONG-TIME  DEAD: 

INNOCENT  GAMBOLS,  HARP  AND  SONG 
AFOOT: — 

TO  PRAISE  THE  DAY  WHEN  ART  AND  FREE 
DOM  WED! 


THE    TRAP. 

SHE   WAS   TAUGHT  DESIRE   IN   THE   STREET 
NOT  AT  THE  ANGEL'S  FEET. 
BY    THE    GOOD    NO    WORD    WAS    SAID 
OF  THE  WORTH   OF  THE  BRIDAL   BED. 
THE  SECRET  WAS  LEARNED  FROM  THE  VILE 
NOT  FROM  HER  MOTHER'S  SMILE. 
HOME  SPOKE  NOT.     AND  THE  GIRL 
WAS    CAUGHT    IN    THE   PUBLIC    WHIRL, 
DO    YOU   SAY    "SHE   GAVE   CONSENT: 
LIFE  DRUNK,   SHE  WAS  CONTENT 
WITH      BEASTS     THAT     HER     FIRE      COULD 

PLEASE?" 

BUT    SHE   DID    NOT   CHOOSE   DISEASE 
OF    MIND   AND   NERVES    AND    BREATH. 
SHE      WAS     TRAPPED     TO     A     SLOW,      FOUL 

DEATH. 

THE  DOOR  WAS   WATCHED   SO  WELL, 
THAT  THE   STEEP  DARK   STAIR  TO   HELL 
WAS   THE   ONLY   ESCAPING   WAY       *       *       * 
"SHE  GAVE   CONSENT,"   YOU   SAY? 
SOME    THINK    SHE    WAS    MEEK    AND    GOOD 
ONLY   LOST  IN   THE   WOOD 
OF    YOUTH,    AND    DECEIVED    IN    MAN 
WHEN   THE   HUNGER  OF   SEX   BEGAN 
THAT   TIES   THE  HUSBAND  AND  WIFE 
TO   THE   END    IN    A    STRONG    FOND    LIFE. 
HER   CAPTOR,    BY    CHANCE   WAS   ONE 
OF  THOSE   WHOSE   PASSION    WAS   DONK, 
A  COLD  FIERCE  WORM  OF  THE  SEA 
ENSLAVING    FOR    YOU    AND    ME. 
THE   WAGES    THE  POOR   MUST   TAKE 
HAVE  FORCED  THEM  TO  SERVE  THIS  SNAKE. 
YEA,    HALF-PAID   GIRLS    MUST   GO 
FOR   BREAD  TO  HIS  PIT  BELOW. 
WHAT    HANGMAN    SHALL   WAIT    HIS    HOST 
OF  BUTCHERS  FROM  COAST  TO  COAST, 
NEW    YORK    TO   THE  GOLDEN   GATE — 
THE    MERGER    OF   DEATH    AND    FATE, 
LUST-KINGS    WITH    A    CAREFUL    PLAN 
CLEAN-CUT,    AMERICAN? 
OH    MOTHERS   WHO   FAILED   TO   TELL 
THE    MAZES    OF   HEAVEN    AND    HELL, 
WHO  FAILED  TO  ADVISE,  IMPLORE 
YOUR    DAUGHTER   AT  LOVE'S   STRANGE   DOOR 
WHAT   WILL   YOU  DO  THIS   DAY? 
YOUR    DEAR    ONES    ARE    HIDDEN    AWAY, 

AS  GOOD  AS  CHAINED  TO  THE  BED 
HID  LIKE  THE  MAD,  OR  THE  DEAD:  — 
THE  GLORIES   OF   ENDLESS   YEARS 
DROWNED  IN  THEIR  HARLOT-TEARS : 
THE  CHILDREN  THEY  HOPED  TO  BEAR 
GRANDCHILDREN  STRONG  AND  FAIR 
THE  LIFE  FOR  AGES  TO  BE 
CUT  OFF  LIKE  A  BLASTED  TREK, 
MURDERED  IN  FILTH  IN  A  DAY, 
SOMEHOW,  BY  THE  MERCHANT  (.AY! 

IN  LIBERTY'S  NAME  WE  CRY 

FOR  THESE  WOMEN  ABOUT  TO  DIE. 


WHAT    SHALL   BE    SAID   OF   A    STATE 
WHERE     TRAPS     FOB     THE     WHITE     BRIDES 

WAIT? 

OF    SELLERS    OF    DRINK    WHO    PLAY 
THE  GAME  FOR  THE  EXTRA  PAY? 
OF    STATESMEN    IN    LEAGUE    WITH    ALL 
WHO  HOPE  FOR  THE  GIRL-CHILD'S  FALL? 
OF   BANKS   WHERE  HELL'S   MONEY   IS   PAID 
AND   PHARISEES    ALL   AFRAID 
OF  PANDARS  THAT  HELP  THEM  SIN? 
WHEN  WILL  OUR  WRATH  BEGIN? 

TO     REFORMERS     IN     DESPAIR. 
'TIS   NOT   TOO   LATE   TO   BUILD   OUR   YOUNG 

LAND   RIGHT, 
CLEANER  THAN  HOLLAND,  COURTLIER  THAN 

JAPAN, 
DEVOUT  LIKE  EARLY  ROME,  WITH  HEARTHS 

LIKE    HERS, 
HEARTHS  THAT  WILL  RECREATE  THE  BREED 

CALLED  MAN. 

POEMS  ON  THE  FAR 
DISTANT  FUTURE 

THE    LEGISLATURE. 

OUT  OF  THE  HEART  OF  AGES  COMES  THE 
LAW, 

THE  SONS  WILL  HONOR  WHAT  THE  SIRES 
HAVE  LEFT: 

THEIR  PROVERB  IS  THE  FATHERS'  CARE 
LESS  WIT, 

THEIR  HONESTY  THE  FATHERS'  CARELESS 
THEFT. 

WHAT  IS  OUR  FREEDOM  BUT  A  CHANCE 
TO  GIVE 

POSTERITY   A    NOBLE   HOUSE  FOR   PLAY? 

AND  WILL  OUR  CHECKED  AND  BALANCED 
LAWS  BE  CHAINS 

TO  HANG  OUR  CHILDREN  IN   AN   EVIL  DAY? 

WE  SAY  WE  WANT  THE  NATION  TO  BE 
FREE, 

YET    THERE'S    A    CLANK    IN    EVERY    LAW 

WE    WRITE. 

WHY     SHOULD     WE    WORK     AT     SUCH     ILL- 
OMENED    STEEL? 
TODAY     THE    FORGE    IS    LOUD,    THE    METAL 

WHITE. 
TODAY  MAD  BLOWS  COME  THICK  AND  FAST. 

THE    STEEL 
YIELDS  WELL,   THAT   SOON   WILL  COOL  FOR- 

EVERMORE. 
WHAT   HAVE   OUR   WILD   BLOWS   WROUGHT? 

WHAT   GRACELESS    MOULD 
WHERE     MEN     WILL     POUR     THEIR     BLOOD 

FOREVERMORE? 

THE    PILGRIMS    FROM    ASIA. 

(IN     THE     DISTANT    FUTURE.) 
I    HAVE    WATCHED    -MULTITUDES    OF   SCHOL 
ARS    COME 

TO  HAUNT  YOUR  FOOT-STEPS,  LINCOLN,  IN 

OUR  TOWN; 
EACH  PILGRIM  PACING  FROM  THE  DAYS  TO 

BE, 

CLAD  IN  A  GLITTERING  STRANGE-RUSTLING 
GOWN. 


l'POX    THEIR    FLAGS    AM)    SASHES.    CLOAKS 

AND  COATS 
NEW    ASIA'S    SYMBOLS,    RICH    EMBROIDERED 

THINGS; 
(STRONG    MEN,    SET  FREE    FROM    PRIDES 

THAT  LEAVE  US  PLAIN*, 
BROCADED      MORE      THAN      BABYLONIAN 

KINGS : ) 
THEIR    FACES  TOUCHED  WITH    CULTURES 

NOW  UNKNOWN, 
THEIR  EYES  ALIGHT  WITH  WISDOMS  WE 

DESIRE, 
DOING      LONG     HONORS   TO     THE      AUSTERE 

DEAD, 
WITH      BANNER,      PANTOMIME      AND      SONG 

AND  FIRE. 

THOSE  WORTHIER  DAYS  SHALL  HAIL  THEM 
FREEDOM'S  SEERS: 

SELF-MASTERING  CHIEFS  WITH  GENIUS 
IN  CONTROL. 

AND  YET,  THAT  MARVELLOUS  WORLD  SHALL 
TURN  TO  THIS, 

TRACING  SWEET  FREEDOM  BACK  TO  LIN 
COLN'S  SOUL. 

WE     CANNOT    CONQUER    TIME. 
WE    CANNOT    CONQUER    TIME.       SIT    DOWN, 

BREATHE    SLOW, 
AND    MUSE    A    LITTLE,    SINCE    GREAT    TIME 

IS    KING. 
THE     MOTH    AND    RUST    SHALL    DO    THEIR 

DESTINED    WORK 

UPON     US,     THOUGH     WE     POLISH     EVERY 
THING. 
AND   ALL  OUR   QUAINT   ATTEMPTS   TO   BEAT 

THE    CLOCK 
TO    TREAD    TIME     DOWN     TO    DEATH     WITH 

HURRYING     FEET, 
SHALL  SLOWLY  END.     WE  WILL  REAR  HIGH 

HIS    FANE, 
AND      COUNT    HIS    EVERLASTING      BONDAGE 

MEET. 
THE    MOTH,    THE    RUST,    THE   IVY   AND  THE 

BAIN, 
THE    HAIL    AND    SNOW    EVEN    TODAY    WEAR 

DOWN 
EACH    TOWER    THAT    SPEAKS    OF    NEWNESS 

ALL    TOO    WELL, 

EACH  POMPOUS  PALACE  WITH  ITS  GLITTER 
ING  CROWN. 
THE  MOTH,   THE  RUST,  THE     IVY  AND  THE 

RAIN, 
THE  HAIL  AND  SXOW  AM)  WIND.  WILL,  AT 

THE   LAST, 
ENTER    THE    INNER     HEART    OF    THIS    OUR 

RACE, 
UNTIL     WE     LOVE     NO     FUTURE     LIKE     THE 

PAST. 

FINAL  POEMS  OF  THE 
ROAD 

LAZARUS   AND   DIVES. 

WRITTEN     FOR     THAT     RARE     CREATURE,     A 
PREOCCUPIED  HOST. 

i  AM  LAZARUS,  POOR  THEY  SAY, 

WAYSIDE  DOGS  ARE  MINE  FOR  FRIENDS, 
OX  OUR  SORES  THE  RAINS  DESCENDS, 
SCORN  IS  OURS  THROUGHOUT  THE  DAY. 


T    AM     LA/ARUS     AT     YOTR    GATE. 

BREAD    IS    Ml.NF,    THE    HITS    THAT    1AM. 

FROM  YOUR  AMPLE  TABLK.    All 

CHANCE       HAS       SCATTERED       FROM        YOUR 

PLATE. 

WELL    CONTENT,    I    TAKE    MY    SHARK. 
'TIS    A    SORT    OF   TACIT   RKJlI  r. 
NO    MAN    FOR    MY    CRUMB    WILL    FIGHT, 
NO    MAN    DRIVES    ME    FROM    THE    STAIR. 
DIVES,    OF   THE    NOBLE    HEART, 
BY    MISGIVING    WORN     AWAY! 
WHETHER    PLEASURES    GO    OR    STAY 
HOW    YOU   FUME  AND   BROOD  AND   START! 
LAZARUS   YOU   NEVER   SEE, 
ALL  THE  LOAF  OF  LIFE  YOU  OWN. 
MADE   SO   GOOD   FOR   YOU    ALONE. 
YET   THIS    CRUMB    CO.MFS    DOWN    TO    ME. 

A  PRAYER  TO  ALL  THE  DEAD   AMONG 

MINE    OWN    PEOPLE. 
ARE     THESE    YOUR     PRESENCES.     MY     CLAN 

FROM    HEAVEN? 
ARE      THESE       YOUR       HANDS       UPON       MY 

WOUNDED   SOUL? 
MINE     OWN,     MINE     OWN,     BLOOD     OF     MY 

BLOOD    BE   WITH    ME, 
FLY    BY    MY    PATH    TILL    YOU    HAVE    MADE 

ME  WHOLE! 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  NOWHERE. 
ON    THE    ROAD    TO    NOWHERE 
WHAT    WTILD    OATS    DID    YOU    SOW 
WHEY    YOU    LEFT    YOUR    FATHER'S    HOUSE 
WITH    YOUR    CHEEKS    AGLOW? 
EYES    SO    STRAINED    AND    EAGER 
TO   SEE   WHAT   YOU    MIGHT    SEE? 
WERE    YOU    THIEF    OR    WERE    YOU    FOOL 
OR    MOST    NOBLY   FREE? 


WERE     THE     TRAMP-DAYS     KMiillTM 

TRUE    SoWIN(,    ol     WILD    SEED? 

DID    YOU    DARE    TO    MAKE    THE    SONGS 

VANQUISHED  WORKMEN    NEED? 

DID     YOU     WASTE     MUCH      MONEY 

TO    DECK      \    I  FPKK's    I  I  AST? 

LOVE   THE  TRUTH.    DEFY    THE   CROWD. 

SCANDALIZE    THE    PRIEST? 

ON    THE   ROAD  TO   NOWHERE 

WHAT    WILD    OATS     DID     Yor     SOW'.' 

STUPIDS    FIND    THE    NOWHERE-ROAD 

DUSTY    i.RIM     AND    SLOW. 

ERE    THEIB    SOWING'S    ENDED 

THEY    TURN    THEM    ON    THEIR    TRACK, 

LOOK     AT    THE    CATIFK    CRAVEN     WK.IUi'fe. 

R  EPE  N  T  A  X  T,     H  U  R  R  Y I X  G     HACK  ! 

GROWN     ASHAMED    OF     NOWHERE 

OF   RA(.S    ENDURED   FOR    YEARS, 

LUST     FOR     VELVET     IN     THEIR     HI  ARTS,. 

PIERCED     WITH     MAMMoN's     SPEAKS. 

ALL   BUT   A   FEW   FANATICS 

GIVE  UP  THEIR   DARLING   GOAL, 

SEEK     To     HE    AS    OTHERS    ARE, 

-it  i :nr\     i  UK   SOUK. 

REA  PINGS     NOW    CON  I  Uo  NT    "1  i  I  K  M  . 

GLUT    THEM,    OR    DESTROY. 

CURIOUS     SEEDS.     GRAIN     OR     WEEDS 

SOWN*    WITH    AWFUL    JOY. 

HURRIED    IS    THEIR    HARVEST, 

THEY  MAKE  SOFT  PEACE  WITH   MEN.. 

PILGRIMS  PASS.      THEY  CARE  NOT, 

WILL    NOT    TRAMP    AGAIN. 

OH   NOWHERE,  GOLDEN    NOWHERE! 

SAGES    AND    FOOLS    GO    ON 

TO     YOUR     CHAOTIC     OCEAN, 

TO    YOUR    TREMENDOUS    DAWN. 

FAR   IN   YOUR  FAIR  DREAM-HAVEN. 

IS   NOTHING   OR   IS   ALL      *      *      * 

THEY  PRESS  ON,   SINGING,   SOWINC 

WILD    DEEDS    WITHOUT    RECALL! 


MR.  LINDSAY  OFFERS  TUE  FOLLOWING 
SERMONS,  TO  BE  PREACHED  ON  SHORT 
NOTICE,  AND  WITHOUT  A  COLLECTION,  IN 
ANY  CHAPEL  THAT  WILL  OPEN  ITS  DOORS 
AS  HE  PASSES  BY:  (1)  THE  GOSPEL  OF 
THE  HEARTH.  (2)  THE  GOSPEL  OF  VOL 
UNTARY  POVERTY.  (3)  THE  HOLINESS  <>F 
BEAUTY. 


